"  No   ONE   SHALL  TRY   TO   CUT   THE  TrUTH  OUT  OF   HeR." 
Miss  Lou.  Page  73 


Cbe  Morhs  of  fi.  p.  iRoe 


rOLUME  NINE 


"MISS    LOU" 

AND 

DRIVEN    BACK   TO    EDEN 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
P.    F.     COLLIER   &    SON 

9 


COPYRIOHT,  1888, 

DODD,  MEAD.  &  COMPANlf. 


4LU  rights  retervttU 


3n  tomnq  Wchitation 
To    -LITTLE     MISS     LOU 

MY   YOUNGEST   DAUGHTER 


m 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEE    I 
A  Girl's  Protest o    .    11 

CHAPTEK    II 
Something  Happens 18 

CHAPTEE    III 
Mad  Whately 26 

CHAPTEE     IV 
Aun'  Jinkey's  Policy 35 

CHAPTEE     V 
Whately's  Idea  of  Courtship 42 

CHAPTEE    VI 
The  Storm  Begins 47 

CHAPTEE    VII 
Dangers  Thickening 58 

CHAPTEE     VIII 
''When?" 64 

CHAPTEE    IX 
Paralyzed  with  Shame 71 

CHAPTEE   X 

A  Baffled  Diplomatist 79 

(5) 


b  CONTENTS 

CHAPTEK    XI 
Aun'  Jinkey's  Warning .    88 

CHAPTER    XII 
A  Whirlwind  of  Events 95 

CHAPTER   XIII 
The  Unexpected  Happens 104 

CHAPTER   XIV 
A  Threat 112 

CHAPTER   XV 
Miss  Lou  Emancipated .  119 

CHAPTER   XVI 
A  Smile  on  War's  G-rim  Face 131 

CHAPTER   XVII 
The  Joy  of  Freedom 142 

CHAPTER   XVIII 
A  Well-aimed  Slipper 153 

CHAPTER   XIX 
A  Girl's  Appeal 163 

CHAPTER   XX 
Scoville's  Hope 173 

CHAPTER   XXI 
Two  Storms 186 

CHAPTER   XXII 
Chunk's  Quest 195 

CHAPTER    XXIII 
A  Bold  Scheme 205 

CHAPTER   XXIV 
A  Home  a  Hospital 216 


CONTENTS  7 

CHAPTER    XXV 

A  Tribute  to  a  Southern  Girl  .     .     .    »     c     .     .  226 

CHAPTEE   XXYI 
A  Background  of  Egotism 237 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

Aun'  Jinkey's  Supreme  Test    .     .     .     .     c     .     .     -  248 

CHAPTER   XXVIII 
Truth  if  the  Heavens  Fall 261 

CHAPTER  XXIX 
"Angel  of  Death" 271 

CHAPTER  XXX 

GrLIMPSES   OF   MoODS   AND   MiNDS        .....      c      .    285 

CHAPTER   XXXI 
The  Duellists  Vanquished ...»  295 

CHAPTER  XXXII 
Sad  Tidings 301 

CHAPTER   XXXIII 
Conspirators 311 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 
Chunk  Plays  Spook 321 

CHAPTER   XXXV 
A  Visitation 328 

CHAPTER    XXXVI 

Uncle  Lusthah  Exhorts 336 

CHAPTER   XXXVII 
A  New  Routine ^     .  346 


"MISS    LOU= 


"MISS     LOU" 

CHAPTER  i(l  s[\  i    i  K;)  rJ  il 
A  girl's  protest 

A  GREAT,  rudely  built  stone  chimney  was  smoking 
languidly  one  afternoon.  Leaning  against  this 
chimney,  as  if  for  protection  and  support,  was  a 
little  cabin  gray  and  decrepit  with  age.  The  door  of  the 
cabin  stood  wide  open,  for  the  warm  spring  was  well  ad- 
vanced in  the  South.  There  was  no  need  of  a  fire,  but 
Aun'  Jinkey,  the  mistress  of  the  abode,  said  she  "kep'  hit 
bunin'  fer  comp'ny."  She  sat  by  it  now,  smoking  as  lazily 
as  het  chimney,  in  an  old  chair  which  creaked  as  if  in  pain 
when  she  rocked.  She  supposed  herself  to  be  in  deep  med- 
itation, and  regarded  her  corncob  pipe  not  merely  a  solace 
but  also  as  an  invaluable  assistant  to  clearness  of  thought. 
Aun'  Jinkey  had  the  complacent  belief  that  she  could  rea- 
son out  most  questions  if  she  could  only  smoke  and  think 
long  enough.  Unfortunately,  events  would  occur  which 
required  action,  or  which  raised  new  questions  before  she 
had  had  time  to  solve  those  originally  presented;  yet  it 
would  be  hard  to  fancy  a  more  tranquil  order  of  things 
than  that  of  which  she  was  a  humble  part. 

The  cabin  was  shaded  by  grand  old  oaks  and  pines, 
through  which  the  afternoon  sun  shone  in  mild  radiance, 
streaming  into  the  doorway  and  making  a  broad  track  of 
light  over  the  uneven  floor.  But  Aun'  Jinkey  kept  back 
in  the  congenial  dusk,  oblivious  to  the  loveliness  of  nature 
without.  At  last  she  removed  her  pipe  from  her  moutb 
and  revealed  her  mental  processes  in  words. 

(11) 


12  ''MISS  LOV 

"In  all  my  projeckin'  dat  chile's  wuss'n  old  mars'r  en 
miss,  en  de  wah,  en  de  preachin'.  I  kin  kin'  ob  see  troo 
dem,  en  w'at  dej  dribin'  at,  but  dat  chile  grow  mo'  qnare 
en  on 'countable  eb'y  day.  Long  as  she  wus  took  up  wid 
her  doll  en  tame  rabbits  en  pony  dar  wa'n't  no  circum'cu- 
tions  'bout  her,  en  now  she  am  all  circum'cution.  Not'n 
gWi^iie  'long  plain  wid  her.  She  like  de  run  down  dar — hit 
wiji'  en  win'  ez  ef  hit  had  ter  go  on,  en  hit  couldn't  mek  up 
hitjs  mia'  which  way, ter  go.  Sometime  hit  larfin'  in  de  sun 
en  den  hit  steal  away  whar  you  kyant  mos'  fin'  hit.  Dat  de 
way  wid  M  iss  Lou.  She  seem  right  hyar  wid  us — she  only 
lil  gyurl  toder  day — en  now  she  'clinin'  to  notions  ob  her 
own,  en  she  steal  away  to  whar  she  tink  no  one  see  her  en 
tink  on  heaps  ob  tings.  Won'er  ef  eber,  like  de  run,  she 
wanter  go  way  off  fum  us  ? 

"Ole  mars' r  en  ole  miss  dunno  en  doan  see  not'n.  Dey 
kyant.  Dey  tinks  de  worl'  al'ays  gwine  des  so,  dat  means 
de  way  dey  tink  hit  orter  go.  Ef  hit  go  any  oder  way,  de 
worVs  wrong,  not  dey.  I  ain'  sayin'  dey  is  wrong,  fer  I 
ain'  des  tink  dat  all  out'n.  'Long  ez  she  keeps  her  foots 
on  de  chalk  line  dey  mark  out  dey  ain'  projeckin'  how  her 
min'  go  yere  en  dar,  zigerty-zag  wid  notions  ob  her  own." 

The  door  darkened,  if  the  radiant  girl  standing  on  the 
threshold  could  be  said  to  darken  any  door.  She  did  not 
represent  the  ordinary  Southern  type,  for  her  hair  was  gold 
in  the  sun  and  her  eyes  blue  as  the  violets  by  the  brook. 
They  were  full  of  mirth  now  as  she  said:  "There  you  are, 
Aun'  Jinkey,  smoking  and  'projeckin'  '  as  usual.  You  look 
like  an  old  Voudoo  woman,  and  if  I  didn't  know  you  as  my 
old  mammy — if  I  should  just  happen  in  as  a  stranger,  I'd 
be  afraid  of  you. ' ' 

"Voudoo  ooman!  How  you  talks.  Miss  Lou!  I'se  a 
member  ob  de  Baptis'  Church,  en  you  knows  it." 

"Oh,  I  know  a  heap  'mo'n  dat,'  as  you  so  often  say.  If 
you  were  only  a  member  of  the  Baptist  Church  I  wouldn't 
be  running  in  to  see  you  so  often.  Uncle  says  a  member  of 
the  Baptist  Church  has  been  stealing  some  of  his  chickens. ' ' 


A    OIRUS   PROTEST  13 

"I  knows  some  tings  'bout  de  members  ob  he  church," 
replied  Aun'  Jinkey,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

'*I  reckon  you  do,  more  than  they  would  like  to  see  pub- 
lished in  the  county  paper;  but  we  aren't  scandal- mongers, 
are  we,  Aun'  Jinkey?"  and  the  young  visitor  sat  down  in 
the  doorway  and  looked  across  the  green  meadow  seen 
through  the  opening  in  the  trees.  A  dogwood  stood  in 
the  corner  of  the  rail  fence,  the  pink  and  white  of  its  blos- 
soms well  matching  the  girl's  fair  face  and  her  rose-dotted 
calico  gown,  which,  in  its  severe  simplicity,  revealed  her 
rounded  outlines. 

Aun'  Jinkey  watched  her  curiously,  for  it  was  evident 
that  Miss  Lou's  thoughts  were  faraway.  "Wat  you  tinkin' 
'bout.  Miss  Lou?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  I  hardly  know  myself.  Come,  Aun'  Jinkey,  be  a 
nice  old  witch  and  tell  me  my  fortune. ' ' 

"Wat  you  want  ter  know  yo'  fortin  fur?" 

"I  want  to  know  more  than  I  do  now.  Look  here,  Aun' 
Jinkey,  does  that  run  we  hear  singing  yonder  go  round  and 
round  in  one  place  and  with  the  same  current?  Doesn't  it 
go  on?  Uncle  and  aunt  want  me  to  go  round  and  round, 
doing  the  same  things  and  thinking  the  same  thoughts — not 
my  own  thoughts  either.  Oh,  I'm  getting  so  tired  of 
it  all!" 

"Lor'  now,  chile,  I  wuz  des  'parin'  you  ter  dat  run  in  my 
min',"  said  Aun'  Jinkey  in  an  awed  tone. 

"No  danger  of  uncle  or  aunt  comparing  me  to  the  run, 
or  anything  else.  They  never  had  any  children  and  don't 
know  anything  about  young  people.  They  have  a  sort  of 
prim,  old-fashioned  ideal  of  what  the  girls  in  the  Baron 
family  should  be,  and  I  must  become  just  such  a  girl — just 
like  that  stiff,  queer  old  portrait  of  grandma  when  she  was 
a  girl.     Oh,  if  they  knew  how  tired  of  it  all  I  am!" 

"Bless  yo'  heart.  Miss  Lou,  you  ain'  projeckin'  anyting?'* 

"No,  I'm  just  chafing  and  beating  my  wings  like  a  caged 
bird." 

"Now  see  yere,  Miss  Lou,  isn't  you  onreason'ble  ?     You 


14  ''MISS   LOW 

hab  a  good  home;    mars'r  en  miss  monstus  plus,  en  dey 
bringin'  you  up  in  de  nurter  en  'monitions  ob  de  Lawd." 

"Too  much  'monition,  Aun'  Jinkey.  Uncle  and  aunt's 
religion  makes  me  so  tired,  and  they  make  Sunday  so  aw- 
fully long.  Their  religion  reminds  me  of  the  lavender  and 
camphor  in  which  they  keep  their  Sunday  .clothes.  And 
then  the  pages  of  the  catechism  they  have  always  made  me 
learn,  and  the  long  Psalms,  too,  for  punishment!  I  don't 
understand  religion,  anyway.  It  seems  something  meant 
to  uphold  all  their  views,  and  anything  contrary  to  their 
views  isn't  right  or  religious.  They  don't  think  much  of 
you  Baptists." 

"We  ain'  sufrin'  on  dat  'count,  chile,"  remarked  Aun* 
Jinkey,  dryly. 

"There  now,  Aun'  Jinkey,  don't  you  see?  Uncle  owns 
you,  yet  you  think  for  yourself  and  have  a  religion  of  your 
own.  If  he  knew  I  was  thinking  for  myself,  he'd  invoke 
the  memory  of  all  the  Barons  against  me.  I  don't  know 
very  much  about  the  former  Barons,  except  that  my  father 
was  one.  According  to  what  I  am  told,  the  girl  Barons 
were  the  primmest  creatures  I  ever  heard  of.  Then  uncle 
and  aunt  are  so  inconsistent,  holding  up  as  they  do  for  my 
admiration  Cousin  Mad  Whately.  I  don't  wonder  people 
shorten,  nis  name  from  Madison  to  Mad,  for  if  ever  there 
was  a  wild,  reckless  fellow,  he  is.  Uncle  wants  to  bring 
about  a  match,  because  Mad's  plantation  joins  ours.  Mad 
acted  as  if  he  owned  me  already  when  he  was  home  last, 
and  yet  he  knows  I  can't  abide  him.  He  seems  to  think  I 
can  be  subdued  like  one  of  his  skittish  horses. " 

"You  hab  got  a  heap  on  yo'  min'.  Miss  Lou,  you  sho'ly 
hab.     You  sut'ny  t'ink  too  much  for  a  young  gyurl." 

"I'm  eighteen,  yet  uncle  and  aunt  act  toward  me  in  some 
ways  as  if  I  were  still  ten  years  old.  How  can  I  help  think- 
ing? The  thoughts  come.  You're  a  great  one  to  talk 
against  thinking.  Uncle  says  you  don't  do  much  else, 
and  that  your  thoughts  are  just  like  the  smoke  of  your 
^Ipe." 


A    GIRL'S   PROTEST  16 

Ann'  Jinkey  bridled  indignantly  at  first,  but,  recollect- 
ing herself,  said  quietly:  "I  knows  my  juty  ter  ole  mars' r 
en' 11  say  not'n  gin  'im.  He  bring  you  up  en  gib  you  a 
home,  Miss  Lou.     You  must  reckermember  dat  ar." 

"I'm  in  a  bad  mood,  I  suppose,  but  1  can't  help  my 
thoughts,  and  it's  kind  of  a  comfort  to  speak  them  out.  If 
he  only  would  give  me  a  home  and  not  make  it  so  much  like 
a  prison!  Uncle's  honest,  though,  to  the  backbone.  On 
my  eighteenth  birthday  he  took  me  into  his  office  and  for- 
mally told  me  about  my  affairs.  1  own  that  part  of  the 
plantation  on  the  far  side  of  the  run.  He  has  kept  all 
the  accounts  of  that  part  separate,  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  war  I'd  have  been  rich,  and  he  says  I  will  be  rich 
when  the  war  is  over  and  the  South  free.  He  said  he  had 
allowed  so  much  for  my  bringing  up  and  for  my  education, 
and  that  the  rest  was  invested,  with  his  own  money,  in  Con- 
federate bonds.  That  is  all  right,  and  I  respect  uncle  for 
his  downright  integrity,  but  he  wants  to  manage  me  just  as 
he  does  my  plantation.  He  wishes  to  produce  just  such 
crops  of  thoughts  as  he  sows  the  seeds  of,  and  he  would 
treat  my  other  thoughts  like  weeds,  which  must  be  hoed 
out,  cut  down  and  burned.  Then  you  see  he  hasn't  given 
me  a  home,  and  I'm  growing  to  be  a  woman.  If  I  am  old 
enough  to  own  land,  am  I  never  to  be  old  enough  to  own 
myself?" 

"Dar  now,  Miss  Lou,  you  raisin'  mo'  questions  dan  I 
kin  tink  out  in  a  yeah." 

"There's  dozens  more  rising  in  my  mind  and  I  can't 
get  rid  of  them.  Aunt  keeps  my  hands  knitting  and  work- 
ing for  the  soldiers,  and  I  like  to  do  it.  I'd  like  to  be  a  sol- 
dier myself,  for  then  I  could  go  somewhere  and  do  and  see 
something.  Life  then  wouldn't  be  just  doing  things  with 
my  hands  and  being  told  to  think  exactly  what  an  old  gen- 
tleman and  an  old  lady  think.  Of  course  our  side  is  right 
in  this  war,  but  how  can  I  believe  with  uncle  that  nearly  all 
the  people  in  the  North  are  low,  wicked  and  vile?  The 
idea  that  every  Northern  soldier  is  a  monster  is  preposter- 


16  ''MISS   LOU" 

ous  to  me.  Uncle  forgets  that  he  has  had  me  taught  in 
United  States  history.  I  wish  some  of  them  would  just 
march  by  this  out-of-the-way  place,  for  I  would  like  to 
see  for  myself  what  they  are  like. ' ' 

"Dar,  dar,  Miss  Lou,  you  gittin'  too  bumptious.  You 
like  de  fus'  woman  who  want  ter  know  too  much." 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  her  blue  eyes  becoming  dark  and 
earnest,  "I  want  to  know  what's  true,  what's  right.  1 
can't  believe  that  uncle  and  aunt's  narrow,  exclusive,  com- 
fortless religion  came  from  heaven;  I  can't  believe  that 
God  agrees  with  unele  as  to  just  what  a  young  girl  should 
do  and  think  and  be,  but  uncle  seems  to  think  that  the 
wickedest  thing  I  can  do  is  to  disagree  with  him  and  aunt. 
Uncle  forgets  that  there  are  books  in  his  library,  and  books 
make  one  think.  They  tell  of  life  very  different  from  mine. 
Why,  Aun'  Jinkey,  just  think  what  a  lonely  girl  I  am! 
You  are  about  the  only  one  I  can  talk  to.  Our  neighbors 
are  so  far  away  and  we  live  so  secluded  that  I  scarcely  have 
acquaintances  of  my  own  age.  Aunt  thinks  young  girls 
should  be  kept  out  of  society  until  the  proper  time,  and 
that  time  seems  no  nearer  now  than  ever.  If  uncle  and 
aunt  loved  me,  it  would  be  different,  but  they  have  just 
got  a  stiff  set  of  ideas  about  their  duty  to  me  and  another 
set  about  my  duty  to  them.  Why,  uncle  laughed  at  a  kit- 
ten the  other  day  because  it  was  kittenish,  but  he  has  al- 
ways wanted  me  to  behave  with  the  solemnity  of  an  old  cat. 
Oh,  dear!  I'm  50  tired.     I  wish  something  would  happen." 

"Hit  brokes  me  all  up  ter  year  you  talk  so,  honey,  en  I 
bless  de  Lawd  'tain'  likely  any  ting  gwinter  hap'n  in  dese 
yere  parts.  De  wah  am  ragin'  way  off  fum  heah,  nobody 
comin'  wid  news,  en  bimeby  you  gits  mo'  settle  down. 
Some  day  you  know  de  valley  ob  peace  en  quietness." 

"See  here,  Aun'  Jinkey,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  flash  of 
her  eyes,  "you  know  the  little  pond  off  in  the  woods. 
That's  more  peaceful  than  the  run,  isn't  it?  Well,  it's 
stagnant,  too,  and  full  of  snakes.  I'd  like  to  know  what's 
going  on  in  the  world,  but  uncle  of  late  does  not  even  let 


A    OIRUS    PROTEST  17 

me  read  the  county  paper.  I  know  things  are  not  going  to 
suit  him,  for  he  often  frowns  and  throws  the  paper  into  the 
fire.  That's  what  provokes  me — the  whole  world  must  go 
just  to  suit  him,  or  else  he  is  angry." 

"Well,  now,  honey,  you  hab  'lieve  yo'  min',  en  I  specs 
you  feel  bettah.  You  mus'  des  promis  yo'  ole  mammy  dat 
you  be  keerful  en  not  rile  up  ole  mars'r,  kase  hit'll  ony  be 
harder  fer  you.  I'se  ole,  en  I  knows  tings  do  hap'n  dough 
dey  of'un  come  slowlike.  You  des  gwine  troo  de  woods 
now,  en  kyant  see  fur;  bimeby  you  come  ter  a  clearin'. 
Dat  boy  ob  mine  be  comin'  soon  fer  his  pone  en  bacon. 
I'se  g  winter  do  a  heap  ob  tin  kin'  on  all  de  questions  you 
riz. 

"Yes,  Aun'  Jinkey,  I  do  feel  better  for  speaking  out, 
but  I  expect  I  shall  do  a  heap  of  thinking  too.  Good- by," 
and  she  strolled  away  toward  the  brook. 


18  ''MISS   LOU' 


CHAPTER  II 

SOMETHING    HAPPENS 

IT  was  a  moody  little  stream  which  Miss  Lou  was  follow- 
ing. She  did  not  go  far  before  she  sat  down  on  a  rock 
and  watched  the  murmuring  waters  glide  past,  conscious 
meantime  of  a  vague  desire  to  go  with  them  into  the  un- 
known. She  was  not  chafing  so  much  at  the  monotony  of 
her  life  as  at  its  restrictions,  its  negation  of  all  pleasing 
realities,  and  the  persistent  pressure  upon  her  attention 
of  a  formal  round  of  duties  and  more  formal  and  antiquated 
circle  of  thoughts.  Only  as  she  stole  away  into  solitudes 
like  the  one  in  which  she  now  sat  dreaming  could  she  es- 
cape from  the  hard  materialism  of  routine,  and  chiding  for 
idleness  usually  followed.  Her  aunt,  with  an  abundance  of 
slaves  at  her  command,  could  have  enjoyed  much  leisure, 
yet  she  was  fussily  and  constantly  busy,  and  the  young  girl 
could  not  help  feeling  that  much  which  she  was  expected 
to  do  was  a  mere  waste  of  time. 

The  serene  beauty  of  the  evening,  the  songs  of  the  mock- 
ing and  other  birds,  were  not  without  their  effect,  however, 
and  she  said  aloud:  "I  might  be  very  happy  even  here  if, 
like  the  birds,  I  had  the  heart  to  sing— and  I  would  sing 
if  I  truly  lived  and  had  something  to  live  for." 

The  sun  was  approaching  the  horizon,  and  she  was  rising 
wearily  and  reluctantly  to  return  when  she  heard  the  report 
of  firearms,  followed  by  the  sound  of  swiftly  galloping 
horses.  Beyond  the  brook,  on  the  margin  of  which  she 
stood,  rose  a  precipitous  bank  overhung  with  vines  and 
bushes,  and  a  few  rods  further  back  was  a  plantation  road 


SOMETHING    HAPPENS  19 

descending  toward  a  wide  belt  of  forest.  A  thick  copse 
and  growth  of  young  trees  ran  from  the  top  of  the  bank 
toward  the  road,  hiding  from  her  vision  that  portion  of  the 
lane  from  which  the  sounds  were  approaching.  Suddenly 
half  a  dozen  cavalrymen,  whom  she  knew  to  be  Federals 
from  their  blue  uniforms,  galloped  into  view  and  passed  on 
in  the  direction  of  the  forest.  One  of  the  group  turned  his 
horse  sharply  behind  the  concealing  copse  and  spurred 
directly  toward  her.  She  had  only  time  to  throw  up  her 
hands  and  utter  an  involuntary  cry  of  warning  about  the 
steep  bank,  when  the  horse  sprang  through  the  treacherous 
shrubbery  and  fell  headlong  into  the  stream.  The  rider  saw 
his  peril,  withdrew  his  feet  from  the  stirrups,  and  in  an  in-, 
stinctive  effort  for  self-preservation,  threw  himself  forward, 
falling  upon  the  sand  almost  at  the  young  girl's  feet.  He 
uttered  a  groan,  shivered,  and  became  insensible.  A  mo- 
ment or  two  later  a  band  in  gray  galloped  by  wholly  intent 
upon  the  Federals,  who  had  disappeared  spurring  for  the 
woods,  and  she  recognized  her  cousin,  Madison  Whately, 
leading  the  pursuit.  Neither  he  nor  any  of  his  party 
looked  her  way,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  Union  soldier 
who  had  so  abruptly  diverged  from  the  road  behind  the 
screening  copse  had  not  been  discovered.  The  sounds  died 
away  as  speedily  as  they  had  approached,  and  all  became 
still  again.  The  startled  birds  resumed  their  songs;  the 
injured  horse  moved  feebly,  and  the  girl  saw  that  it  was 
bleeding  from  a  wound,  but  the  man  at  her  feet  did  not 
stir.  Truly  something  had  happened.  What  should  she 
do  ?  Breaking  the  paralysis  of  her  fear  and  astonishment, 
she  stepped  to  the  brook,  gathered  up  water  in  her  hands, 
and  dashed  it  into  the  face  of  the  unconscious  man.  It  had 
no  effect.  "Can  he  be  dead?"  she  asked  herself  in  horror. 
He  was  as  pale  as  his  bronzed  features  could  become,  and 
her  woman's  soul  was  touched  that  one  who  looked  so 
strong,  who  had  been  so  vital  a  moment  before,  should 
now  lie  there  in  pathetic  and  appealing  helplessness.  Was 
that  fine,   manly   face  the  visage  of  one  of  the  terrible, 


TO  *'M1SS   LOW 

bloodthirsty,  ■anscmpulous  Yankees  ?  Even  as  she  ran  to 
Ann'  Jinkey's  cottage  for  help  the  thought  crossed  her 
mind  that  the  world  was  not  what  it  had  been  represented 
to  her,  and  that  she  must  learn  to  think  and  act  for  herself. 

As  she  approached,  Chunk,  Aun'  Jinkey's  grandson, 
appeared  coming  from  the  mansion  house.  He  was  nick- 
named '* Chunk"  from  his  dwarfed  stature  and  his  stout, 
powerful  build.  Miss  Lou  put  her  finger  to  her  lips, 
glanced  hastily  around,  and  led  the  way  into  the  cabin. 
She  hushed  their  startled  exclamations  as  she  told  her 
story,  and  then  said,  "Aun'  Jinkey,  if  he's  alive,  you  must 
hide  him  in  your  loft  there  where  Chunk  sleeps.  Come 
with  me." 

In  a  few  moments  all  three  were  beside  the  unconscious 
form.  Chunk  instantly  slipped  his  hand  inside  the  soldier's 
vest  over  his  heart.  "Hit  done  beats,"  he  said,  quickly, 
and  without  further  hesitation  he  lifted  the  man  as  if  he 
had  been  a  child,  bore  him  safely  to  the  cabin,  and  laid  him 
on  x\un'  Jinkey's  bed.  "Hi,  granny,  whar  dat  hot  stuff  you 
gib  me  fer  de  belly  misery  ?' ' 

Aun'  Jinkey  had  already  found  a  bottle  containing  a  de- 
coction of  the  wild  ginger  root,  and  with  pewter  spoon 
forced  some  of  the  liquid  into  the  man's  mouth.  He  strug- 
gled slightly  and  began  to  revive.  At  last  he  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked  with  an  awed  expression  at  the  young  girl 
who  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"I  hope  you  feel  better  now,"  she  said,  kindly. 

"Are  you — am  I  alive  ?"  he  asked. 

"Bar  now,  mars' r,  you  isn't  in  heb'n  yet,  dough  Miss 
Lou,  standin'  dar,  mout  favor  de  notion.  Des  you  took 
anoder  swaller  ob  dis  ginger-tea,  en  den  you  see  me'n 
Chunk  ain'  angels." 

Chunk  grinned  and  chuckled.  "Neber  was  took  fer  one 
in  my  bawn  days." 

The  young  man  did  as  he  was  bidden,  then  turned  his 
eyes  wistfully  and  questioningly  from  the  two  dark  visages 
back  to  the  girl's  sympathetic  face. 


SOMETHING    HAPPENS  21 

"You  remember,"  slie  said,  "you  were  being  chased,  and 
turned  your  horse  toward  a  steep  bank,  which  you  didn't 
see,  and  fell." 

"Ah,  yes— it's  all  growing  clear.  You  were  the  woman 
I  caught   glimpse  of. ' ' 

She  nodded  and  said:  "I  must  go  now,  or  some  one  will 
come  looking  for  me.  I  won't  speak — tell  about  this.  I'm 
not  on  your  side,  but  I'm  not  going  to  get  a  helpless  man 
into  more  trouble.  You  may  trust  Aun'  Jinkey  and  her 
grandson." 

"Dat  you  kin,  mars'r,"  Chunk  ejaculated  with  peculiar 
emphasis. 

"God  bless  you,  then,  for  a  woman  who  has  a  heart. 
I'm  quite  content  that  you're  not  an  angel,"  and  a  smile  so 
lighted  up  the  soldier's  features  that  she  thought  she  had 
never  seen  a  pleasanter  looking  man. 

Worried  indeed  that  she  was  returning  so  much  later 
than  usual,  she  hastened  homeward.  Half-way  up  the  path 
to  the  house  she  met  a  tall,  slender  negro  girl,  who  ex- 
claimed, "Hi,  Miss  Lou,  ole  miss  des  gettin'  'stracted  'bout 
you,  en  mars'r  sez  ef  you  ain'  at  supper  in  five  minits  he's 
gwine  down  to  Aun'  Jinkey  en  know  what  she  mean,  meck- 
in'  sech  'sturbence  in  de  fambly. " 

"How  absurd!"  thought  the  girl.  "Being  a  little  late  is 
a  disturbance  in  the  family."  But  she  hastened  on,  fol- 
lowed by  the  girl,  who  was  employed  in  the  capacity  of 
waitress.  This  girl.  Zany  by  name,  resented  in  accordance 
with  her  own  ideas  and  character  the  principle  of  repression 
which  dominated  the  household.  She  threw  a  kiss  toward 
the  cabin  under  the  trees  and  shook  with  silent  laughter  as 
she  muttered,  "Dat  fer  you.  Chunk.  You  de  beat'nst  nigger 
I  eber  see.  You  mos'  ez  bro'd  ez  I  is  high,  yit  you'se 
reachin'  arter  me.  I  des  like  ter  kill  mysef  lafin'  wen  we 
dance  tergeder, "  and  she  indulged  in  a  jig-step  and  antics 
behind  Miss  Lou's  back  until  she  came  in  sight  of  the  win- 
dows, then  appeared  as  if  following  a  hearse. 

Miss  Lou  entered  the  rear  door  of  the  long,  two-story 


*22  *'MISS   LOW 

house,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  a  wide  piazza.  Mr. 
Baron,  a  stout,  bald-headed  old  gentleman,  was  fuming 
up  and  down  the  dining-room  while  his  wife  sat  in  grim 
silence  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  It  was  evident  that  they 
had  made  stiff,  old-fashioned  toilets,  and  both  looked 
askance  at  the  flushed  face  of  the  almost  breathless  girl, 
still  in  her  simple  morning  costume.  Before  she  could 
speak  her  uncle  said,  severely,  *' Since  we  have  waited  so 
long,  we  will  still  wait  till  you  can  dress. '* 

The  girl  was  glad  to  escape  to  her  room  in  order  that  she 
might  have  time  to  frame  some  excuse  before  she  faced  the 
inquisition  in  store  for  her. 

Constitutional  traits  often  assert  themselves  in  a  manner 
contrary  to  the  prevailing  characteristics  of  a  region.  In- 
stead of  the  easy-going  habits  of  life  common  to  so  many 
of  his  neighbors,  Mr.  Baron  was  a  martinet  by  nature,  and 
the  absence  of  large,  engrossing  duties  permitted  his  mind 
to  dwell  on  little  things  and  to  exaggerate  them  out  of  all 
proportion.  Indeed,  it  was  this  utter  lack  of  perspective 
in  his  views  and  judgments  which  created  for  Miss  Lou 
half  her  trouble.  The  sin  of  tardiness  which  she  had  just 
committed  was  treated  like  a  great  moral  transgression,  or 
rather  it  was  so  frowned  upon  that  it  were  hard  to  say  he 
could  show  his  displeasure  at  a  more  heinous  offence.  The 
one  thought  now  in  Mr.  Baron's  mind  was  that  the  sacred 
routine  of  the  day  had  been  broken.  Often  there  are  no 
greater  devotees  to  routine  than  those  who  are  virtually 
idlers.  Endowed  with  the  gift  of  persistence  rather  than 
with  a  resolute  will,  it  had  become  second  nature  to  main- 
tain the  daily  order  of  action  and  thought  which  he  believed 
to  be  his  right  to  enforce  upon  his  household.  Every  one 
chafed  under  his  inexorable  system  except  his  wife.  She 
had  married  when  young,  had  grown  up  into  it,  and  supple- 
mented it  with  a  system  of  her  own  which  took  the  form  of 
a  scrupulous  and  periodical  attention  to  all  little  details 
of  housekeeping.  There  was  a  constant  friction,  therefore, 
between  the  careless,  indolent  natures  of  the  slaves  and  the 


SOMETHING    HAPPENS  23 

precise,  exacting  requirements  of  both  master  and  mistress. 
Miss  Lou,  as  she  was  generally  called  on  the  plantation,  had 
grown  up  into  this  routine  as  a  flower  blooms  in  a  stiff  old 
garden,  and  no  amount  of  repression,  admonition  and  ex- 
hortation, not  even  in  her  younger  days  of  punishment, 
could  quench  her  spirit  or  benumb  her  mind.  She  sub- 
mitted, she  yielded,  with  varying  degrees  of  grace  or  reluc- 
tance. As  she  increased  in  years,  her  thoughts,  as  we  have 
seen,  were  verging  more  and  more  on  the  border  of  rebel- 
lion. But  the  habit  of  obedience  and  submission  still  had 
its  influence.  Moreover,  there  had  been  no  strong  motive 
and  little  opportunity  for  independent  action.  Hoping  not 
even  for  tolerance,  much  less  for  sympathy,  she  kept  her 
thoughts  to  herself,  except  as  she  occasionally  relieved 
her  mind  to  her  old  mammy,  Aun'  Jinkey. 

She  came  into  the  dining-room  hastily  at  last,  but  the 
expression  of  her  face  was  impassive  and  inscrutable.  She 
was  received  in  solemn  silence,  broken  at  first  only  by  the 
long  formal  grace  which  Mr.  Baron  never  omitted  and  never 
varied.  In  her  rebellions  mood  the  girl  thought,  "What  a 
queer  God  it  would  be  if  he  were  pleased  with  this  old  cut- 
and-dried  form  of  words!  All  the  time  uncle's  saying  them 
he  is  thinking  how  he'll  show  me  his  displeasure." 

Mr.  Baron  evidently  concluded  that  his  best  method  at 
first  would  be  an  expression  of  offended  dignity,  and  the 
meal  began  in  depressing  silence,  which  Mrs.  Baron  was 
naturally  the  first  to  break.  "It  must  be  evident  to  you, 
Louise,"  she  said  in  a  thin,  monotonous  voice,  "that  the 
time  has  come  for  you  to  consider  and  revise  your  conduct. 
The  fact  that  your  uncle  has  been  kept  waiting  for  his  sup- 
per is  only  one  result  of  an  unhappy  change  which  I  have 
observed,  but  have  forborne  to  speak  of  in  the  hope  that 
your  own  conscience  and  the  influence  of  your  past  training 
would  lead  you  to  consider  and  conform.  Think  of  the 
precious  monfents,  indeed  I  may  say  hours,  that  you  have 
wasted  this  afternoon  in  idle  converse  with  an  old  negress  who 
is  no  fit  companion  for  you!     You  are  becoming  too  old — " 


24  ''MISS    LOU" 

''Too  old,  aunt?  Do  you  at  last  recognize  the  fact  that 
I  am  growing  older  ?' ' 

With  a  faint  expression  of  surprise  dawning  in  her  im- 
passive face  Mrs.  Baron  continued:  ''Yes,  old  enough  to 
remember  yourself  and  not  to  be  compelled  to  recognize 
the  duties  of  approaching  womanhood.  I  truly  begin  to 
feel  that  I  must  forbid  these  visits  to  an  old,  ignorant  and 
foolish  creature  whose  ideas  are  totally  at  variance  with  all 
that  is  proper  and  right. ' ' 

"Uncle  thinks  I  have  approached  womanhood  sufficiently 
near  to  know  something  of  my  business  affairs,  and  even 
went  so  far  as  to  suggest  his  project  of  marrying  me  to  my 
cousin  in  order  to  unite  in  sacred — I  mean  legal  bonds  the 
two  plantations.'* 

The  two  old  people  looked  at  each  other,  then  stared  at 
their  niece,  who,  with  hot  face,  maintained  the  pretence 
of  eajing  her  supper.  "Truly,  Louise,"  began  Mr.  Baron, 
sole6inly,  "you  are  indulging  in  strange  and  unbecoming 
language.  1  have  revealed  to  you  your  pecuniary  affairs, 
and  I  have  more  than  once  suggested  an  alliance  which  is 
in  accordance  with  our  wishes  and  your  interests,  in  order 
to  prove  to  you  how  scrupulous  we  are  in  promoting  your 
welfare.  We  look  for  grateful  recognition  and  a  wise,  per- 
sistent effort  on  your  part  to  further  our  efforts  in  your 
behalf." 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  me  wise  to  talk  to  a  mere  child 
about  property  and  marriage,"  said  the  girl,  breathing 
quickly  in  the  consciousness  of  her  temerity  and  her  ris- 
ing spirit  of  rebellion. 

"You  are  ceasing  to  be  a  mere  child,"  resumed  her 
uncle,  severely. 

"That  cannot  be,"  Miss  Lou  interrupted.  "You  and 
aunt  speak  to  me  as  you  did  years  ago  when  I  was  a  child. 
Can  you  expect  me  to  have  a  woman's  form  and  not  a  woman's 
mind  ?  Are  women  told  exactly  what  they  nfust  think  and 
do,  like  little  children  ?  Aunt  threatens  to  forbid  visits  to 
my  old  mammy.     If  I  were  but  five  years  old  she  couldn't 


SOMETHING    HAPPENS  ^ 

do  more.  You  speak  of  marrying  me  to  my  cousin  as  if  I 
had  merely  the  form  and  appearance  of  a  woman,  and  no 
mind  or  wishes  of  my  own.  I  have  never  said  I  wanted  to 
marry  him  or  any  one." 

"Why,  Louise,  you  are  verging  toward  flat  rebellion," 
gasped  her  uncle,  laying  down  his  knife  and  fork. 

"Oh,  no,  uncle!  I'm  merely  growing  up.  You  should 
have  kept  the  library  locked;  you  should  never  have  had 
me  taught  to  read,  if  you  expected  me  to  become  the  mere 
shell  of  a  woman,  having  no  ideas  of  my  own." 

"We  wish  you  to  have  ideas,  and  have  tried  to  inculcate 
right  ideas." 

"Which  means  only  your  ideas,  uncle." 

"Louise,  are  you  losing  your  mind?" 

' '  No,  uncle,  I  am  beginning  to  find  it,  and  that  I  have  a 
right  to  use  it.  I  am  willing  to  pay  all  due  respect  and  def- 
erence to  you  and  to  aunt,  but  I  protest  against  being  treated 
as  a  child  on  one  hand  and  as  a  wax  figure  which  can  be  stood 
up  and  married  to  anybody  on  the  other.  I  have  patiently 
borne  this  treatment  as  long  as  I  can,  and  I  now  reckon  the 
time  has  come  to  end  it." 

Mr.  Baron  was  thunderstruck  and  his  wife  was  feeling 
for  her  smelling-bottle.  Catching  a  glimpse  of  Zany,  where 
she  stood  open-mouthed  in  her  astonishment,  her  master 
said,  sternly,  "Leave  the  room!"  Then  he  added  to  his 
niece,  "Think  of  your  uttering  such  wild  talk  before  one 
of  our  people!  Don't  you  know  that  my  will  must  be  law 
on  this  plantation?" 

"I'm  not  one  of  your  people,"  responded  the  girl, 
haughtily.  "I'm  your  niece,  and  a  Southern  girl  who 
will  call  no  man  master." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  With- 
out waiting  for  it  to  be  opened,  a  tall,  lank  man  entered  and 
said,  hastily,  "Mr.  Baron,  I  reckon  there's  news  which  yer 
orter  hear  toreckly. ' '    He  was  the  overseer  of  the  plantation. 


Roe— IX— B 


26'  ''MISS   LOW 


CHAPTER   III 

MAD     WHATELY 

MR.  BARON  was  one  of  the  few  of  the  landed  gentry 
in  the  region  who  was  not  known  by  a  military 
title,  and  he  rather  prided  himself  on  the  fact. 
"I'm  a  man  of  peace,"  he  was  accustomed  to  say,  and  his 
neighbors  often  remarked,  "Yes,  Baron  is  peaceable  if  he 
has  his  own  way  in  everything,  but  there's  no  young  blood 
in  the  county  more  ready  for  a  fray  than  he  for  a  lawsuit." 
"Law  and  order"  was  Mr.  Baron's  motto,  but  by  these 
terms  he  meant  the  perpetuity  of  the  conditions  under 
which  he  and  his  ancestors  had  thus  far  lived.  To  dis- 
trust these  conditions  was  the  crime  of  crimes.  In  his  esti- 
mation, therefore,  a  Northern  soldier  was  a  monster  sur- 
passed only  by  the  out-and-out  abolitionist.  While  it  had 
so  happened  that,  even  as  a  young  man,  his  tastes  had  been 
legal  rather  than  military,  he  regarded  the  war  of  secession 
as  more  sacred  than  any  conflict  of  the  past,  and  was  will- 
ing to  make  great  sacrifices  for  its  maintenance.  He  had 
invested  all  his  funds  as  well  as  those  of  his  niece  in  Con- 
federate bonds,  and  he  had  annually  contributed  a  large 
portion  of  the  product  of  his  lands  to  the  support  of  the 
army.  Living  remote  from  the  scenes  of  actual  strife,  he 
had  been  able  to  maintain  his  illusions  and  hopes  to  a  far 
greater  extent  than  many  others  of  like  mind  with  himself; 
but  as  the  war  drew  toward  its  close,  even  the  few  news- 
papers he  read  were  compelled  to  justify  their  name  in  some 
degree  by  giving  very  unpalatable  information.  As  none 
are  so  blind  as  those  who  will  not  see,  the  old  man  had  tes- 


MAD    WHATELY  27 

tily  pooh-poohed  at  what  he  termed  "temporary  reverses," 
and  his  immunity  from  disturbance  had  confirmed  his  belief 
that  the  old  order  of  things  could  not  materially  change. 
True,  some  of  his  slaves  had  disappeared,  but  he  had  given 
one  who  had  been  caught  such  a  lesson  that  the  rest  had  re- 
mained quiet  if  not  contented. 

The  news  brought  by  his  overseer  became  therefore  more 
disturbing  than  the  strange  and  preposterous  conduct  of  his 
niece,  and  he  had  demanded  excitedly,  "What  on  earth's 
the  matter,  Perkins?" 

"Well,  sir,  fur's  I  kin  mek  out,  this  very  plantation's 
been  p'luted  by  Yankee  soldiers  this  very  evenin'.  Yes, 
sir." 

"Great  heavens!  Perkins,"  and  Mr.  Baron  sprang  from 
his  chair,  then  sank  back  again  with  an  expression  suggest- 
ing that  if  the  earth  opened  next  it  could  not  be  worse. 

"Yes,  sir,"  resumed  Perkins,  solemnly,  "I  drawed  that 
much  from  Jute.  He  seen  'em  hisself.  I  noticed  a  s'pressed 
'citement  en  talk  in  the  quarters  this  evenin',  an'  I  follered 
hit  right  up  an'  I  ast  roun'  till  I  pinned  Jute,  fie  was  over 
the  fur  side  of  the  run  lookin'  fur  a  stray  crow,  an'  he  seen 
'em.  But  they  was  bein'  chased  lively.  Mad  Whately — 
beg  pardon — Mr.  Madison  was  arter  them  with  whip  and 
spur.  Didn't  yer  hear  a  crack  of  a  rifle  ?  I  did,  and  reck- 
oned it  was  one  o'  the  Simcoe  boys  out  gunnin',  but  Jute 
says  hit  was  one  o'  our  men  fired  the  shot,  en  that  they 
chased  the  Yanks  to'erds  the  big  woods.  They  was  all 
mounted  en  goin'  it  lickity  switch.  The  thing  that  sticks 
in  my  crop  isn't  them  few  what  Mr.  Madison  chased,  but 
the  main  body  they  belongs  to.  Looks  as  ef  there's  goin' 
to  be  a  raid  down  our  way. ' ' 

"If  that  is  so,"  said  Mr.  Baron,  majestically,  "Lieuten- 
ant Whately  proves  that  our  brave  men  are  not  far  off, 
either,  and  the  way  he  chased  some  of  them  shows  how  all 
the  vile  invaders  will  eventually  be  driven  out  of  the  coun- 
try. Be  vigilant,  Perkins,  and  let  it  be  understood  at  the 
quarters  that  Lieutenant  Whately  is  within  call." 


28  ''MISS    LOW 

The  overseer  bowed  awkwardly  and  limped  away.  His 
lameness  had  secured  him  immunity  from  military  duty. 

"Ah,  that's  a  man  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Baron,  glaring  at 
his  niece.  "Your  cousin  is  a  true  scion  of  Southern  chiv- 
alry. That  is  the  kind  of  a  man  you  do  not  know  whether 
you  wish  to  marry  or  not — a  brave  defender  of  our  hearths 
and  liberties." 

"If  he  wishes  to  marry  me  against  my  will,  he's  not  a 
defender  of  my  liberty,"  retorted  the  girl. 

"If  you  had  the  spirit  which  should  be  your  birthright 
your  eyes  would  flash  with  joy  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  a 
hero  who  could  thus  chase  your  enemies  from  our  soil.  If 
you  could  only  have  seen  him  in  his  headlong — " 

"I  did  see  him." 

"What!" 

"I  saw  Cousin  Madison  leading  a  dozen  or  more  men  in 
pursuit  of  half  a  dozen.  That  does  not  strike  me  as  sub- 
limely heroic." 

"Why  haven't  you  told  me  of  this?  How  could  you 
have  seen  him?"  and  the  old  man,  in  his  strong  excite- 
ment, rose  from  his  chair. 

"My  reception  when  I  entered  was  not  conducive  to  con- 
versation. I  was  merely  sitting  by  the  run  and  saw  both 
parties  gallop  past." 

"You  should  have  come  instantly  to  me." 

"I'm  sure  I  came  in  hastily,"  she  replied,  crimsoning  ir. 
the  consciousness  of  her  secret,  "but  I  was  met  as  if  I  had 
been  guilty  of  something  awful. ' ' 

"Well,  if  I  had  known,"  began  her  uncle,  in  some 
confusion,  mistaking  her  color  for  an  expression  of 
anger. 

"I  think,"  remarked  her  aunt,  coldly,  "that  Louise 
should  have  recognized  that  she  had  given  you  just  cause 
for  displeasure  by  her  tardiness,  unless  it  were  explained, 
and  she  should  have  explained  at  once.  I  have  no  patience 
with  the  spirit  she  is  displaying." 

But  Mr.  Baron's  miud  liad  been  diverted  to  more  serious 


MAD    WHATELY  29 

and  alarming  considerations  than  what  he  characterized  men- 
tally as  "a  girl's  tantrum." 

"It  makes  my  blood  boil,"  he  said,  to  think  that  this 
Northern  scum  is  actually  in  our  neighborhood,  and  might 
be  at  our  doors  but  for  my  brave  nephew.  Thanks  to  him, 
they  met  a  righteous  reception  on  this  plantation;  thanks 
to  him,  in  all  probability,  we  are  not  now  weltering  in  our 
blood,  with  the  roof  that  shelters  us  blazing  over  our  heads. 
If  those  marauders  had  found  us  unprotected,  young  wo- 
man, you  would  have  rued  the  day.  Their  capacity  for 
evil  is  only  equalled  by  their  opportunities.  If  your 
cousin  had  not  flamed  after  them  like  an  avenging  sword 
you  might  have  cried  loudly  enough  for  the  one  of  whom, 
in  your  fit  of  unseemly  petulance,  you  can  speak  so  slight- 
ingly. I  advise  you  to  go  to  your  room  and  thank  Heaven 
for  your  escape. ' ' 

"Uncle,  are  the  people  of  the  North  savages?" 

"Its  soldiers  are  worse  than  savages.  Have  you  not 
heard  me  express  my  opinion  of  them  over  and  over  again  ? 
Go  to  your  room,  and  when  you  appear  again,  I  trust  it  will 
be  with  the  meekness  and  submission  becoming  in  a  young 
woman. ' ' 

When  the  girl  left  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin  the  young  sol- 
dier looked  after  her  with  an  expression  of  deep  interest. 
"Who  is  she?"  he  asked. 

"Dat's  Miss  Lou,"  said  the  old  negress,  forcing  into  his 
mouth  another  spoonful  of  her  fiery  decoction. 

"Oh,  that's  enough,  aunty,  unless  you  wish  to  burn  me 
out  like  a  hollow  log,"  and  he  struggled  to  his  feet  to  ease 
his  tendency  to  strangle.  "Miss  Lou?  How  should  I  know 
who  she  is?'* 

"Ob  co'se,"  said  Aun'  Jinkey,  dryly,  "I  ain'  namin' 
her  pedigree." 

"You  a  Linkum  man,  ain'  you  ?"  Chunk  asked,  quickly. 

"Yes,  and  Lincoln  is  a  good  friend  of  yours." 

"Hi!  I  knows  dat.  W'at  fer  you  so  hidin'-in-de-grass, 
granny?    No  use  bein'  dat  away  wid  a  Linkum  man." 


so  ''MISS   LOW 

"I  ain'  talkin'  'bout  my  young  mistis  to  folks  ez  drap 
down  fum  de  clouds." 

"You  wouldn't  like  me  better  if  I  came  up  from  below, 
aunty.  There  now,  I'm  not  a  very  bad  fellow,  and  I  be- 
long to  the  army  that's  going  to  make  you  all  free." 

'.'I  hasn't  des  tink  out  dis  question  ob  bein'  free  yit. 
I'se  too  ole  to  wuk  much  an'  old  mars' r's  took  keer  on 
me  long  time." 

"Well,  I'se  tink  it  out,"  put  in  Chunk,  decidedly;  "en 
I'se  able  to  wuk  fer  you  en  me  too." 

"You  mighty  peart.  Chunk,  co'tin'  a  gal  lie  a  bean-pole 
a'ready.  I  reck'n  she  spen'  all  you  eber  mek.  Yon  bettah 
boos'  de  Linkum  man  into  dat  ar  lof  sud'n,  kase  ef  Marse 
Perkins  cotch  'im  yere  we  all  ain'  feelin'  berry  good  bimeby. ' ' 

"Dat  ar  truer' n  preachin',"  admitted  Chunk,  with  alac- 
rity. "Des  you  tek  hoi'  ob  dem  ladder  rouns,  mars' r,  an' 
put  yo'  foots  on  my  sho'lers.  Dat's  hit.  Nobody  tink  ob 
fin' in'  you  yere.  I'se  study  how  ter  git  yo'  hoss  out  of 
sight  'gin  mawnin'." 

"You  stand  by  me.  Chunk,"  said  the  soldier,  "and  you 
won't  be  sorry.  There's  a  lot  of  us  coming  this  way  soon, 
and  I  can  be  a  good  friend  of  yours  and  all  your  people  if 
you  help  me  out  of  this  scrape." 

"I'se  gwine  ter  stan'  by  you,  boss.  I'se  mek  up  my 
min'  ter  be  free  dis  time,  sho!     Hi!  w'at  dat?" 

He  was  wonderfully  agile,  for  his  arms  were  nearly  as 
long  as  his  legs.  In  an  instant  he  descended,  drawing  a 
trap-door  after  him.  Then  he  sauntered  to  the  door,  which 
he  opened  wide.  A  troop  of  horsemen  were  coming  single 
file  by  a  path  which  led  near  the  cabin,  and  the  foremost 
asked  in  a  voice  which  the  negro  recognized  as  that  of  Lieu- 
tenant Whately,  "Is  that  you.  Chunk?" 

"Dat's  me,  mars'r.     My  'specs." 

"Be  ofE,  you  skeleton.  Make  time  for  the  house  and 
help  get  supper  for  me  and  the  men.  If  you  don't  run  like 
a  red  deer,  I'll  ride  you  down." 

"Good  Lawd!    w'at  gwine   ter  hap'n   nex' ?"  groaned 


MAD    WHATELY  31 

Chunk,  as  he  disappeared  toward  the  mansion.  He  burst 
like  a  bombshell  into  the  kitchen,  a  small  building  in  the 
rear  of  the  house. 

"Did  jou  eber  see  de  likes?"  exclaimed  Zany.  "What 
yo'  manners-^" 

"Hi,  dar!  talk  'bout  manners!  Marse  Whately  comin' 
wid  a  army,  en  want  supper  fer  um  all  in  des  one  minute 
en  er  haf  by  de  clock!" 

Great,  fat  Ann'  Suke  threw  up  her  hands  in  despair,  and 
in  the  brief  silence  the  tramp  of  horses  and  the  jingling  of 
sabres  were  plainly  heard.  They  all  knew  Mad  Whately, 
and  it  needed  not  that  Mrs.  Baron,  desperately  flurried, 
should  bustle  in  a  few  moments  later  with  orders  that  all 
hands  should  fly  around.  "What  you  doing  here?"  she 
asked  Chunk,  sharply. 

"I'se  here  ter  hep,  mistis.  Dem's  my  orders  from  Marse 
Whately.     He  come  ridin'  by  granny's." 

"Then  go  and  kill  chickens." 

A  few  moments  later  the  dolorous  outcry  of  fowls  was 
added  to  the  uproar  made  by  the  barking  dogs. 

With  a  .chill  of  fear  Miss  Lou,  in  her  chamber,  recog- 
nized her  cousin's  voice,  and  knew  that  he,  with  his  band, 
had  come  to  claim  hospitality  at  his  uncle's  hands.  What 
complications  did  his  presence  portend?  Truly,  the  long 
months  of  monotony  on  the  old  plantation  were  broken 
now.  What  the  end  would  be  she  dared  not  think,  but 
for  the  moment  her  spirit  exulted  in  the  excitement  which 
would  at  least  banish  stagnation. 

In  his  secret  heart  Mr.  Baron  had  hoped  that  his  nephew 
would  go  on  to  his  own  home,  a  few  miles  further;  for  ap- 
plauding him  as  a  hero  was  one  thing,  and  having  him  turn 
everything  upside  down  at  that  hour  another.  Routine  and 
order  were  scattered  to  the  winds  whenever  Mad  Whately 
made  his  appearance,  but  the  host's  second  thoughts  led 
him  to  remember  that  this  visitation  was  infinitely  to  be 
preferred  to  one  from  the  terrible  Yankees;  so  he  threw 
wide  open  the  door,  and,  with  his  wife,  greeted  his  nephew 


32  ''MISS   LOU" 

warmly.  Then  he  shouted  for  Perkins  to  come  and  look 
after  the  horses. 

"Ah,  mine  uncle,"  cried  Whately,  "where  on  earth  is 
to  be  found  a  festive  board  like  yours?  Who  so  ready  to 
fill  the  flowing  bowl  until  even  the  rim  is  lost  to  sight, 
when  your  defenders  have  a  few  hours  to  spare  in  their 
hard  campaigning?  You  won't  entertain  angels  unawares 
to-night.  You'd  have  been  like  Daniel  in  the  den  with 
none  to  stop  the  lions'  mouths,  or  rather  the  jackals',  had 
we  not  appeared  on  the  scene.  The  Yanks  were  bearing 
down  for  you  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold.  Where's  my  pretty 
cousin  ?" 

Mr.  Baron  had  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  several  times 
during  this  characteristic  greeting,  and  now  he  hastened  to 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  shouted,  "Louise,  come  down  and 
help  your  aunt  entertain  our  guests."  Meanwhile  Whately 
stepped  to  the  sideboard  and  helped  himself  liberally  to  the 
sherry. 

"You  know  me  must  maintain  discipline,"  resumed 
Whately,  as  his  uncle  entered  the  dining-room.  "The 
night  is  mild  and  still.  Let  a  long  table  be  set  on  the 
piazza  for  my  men.  I  can  then  pledge  them  through  the 
open  window,  for  since  I  give  them  such  hard  service,  I 
must  make  amends  when  I  can.  Ah,  Perkins,  have  your 
people  rub  the  horses  till  they  are  ready  to  prance,  then 
feed  them  lightly,  two  hours  later  a  heavier  feed,  that's  a 
good  fellow!  You  were  born  under  a  lucky  star,  uncle. 
You  might  now  be  tied  up  by  your  thumbs,  while  the 
Yanks  helped  themselves." 

"It  surely  was  a  kind  Providence  which  brought  you 
here,  nephew.'' 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt;  my  good  horse,  also,  and,  I  may 
add,  the  wish  to  see  my  pretty  cousin.  Ah !  here  she  comes 
with  the  blushes  of  the  morning  on  her  cheeks, "  but  his 
warmer  than  a  cousinly  embrace  and  Jdss  left  the  crimson 
of  anger  in  their  places. 

She  drew  herself  up  indignantly  to  her  full  height  and 


MAD    WHATELY  35 

said,  "We  have  beea  discussing  the  fact  that  I  am  quite 
grown  up.     I  will  thank  you  to  note  the  change,  also." 

"Why,  so  I  do,"  he  replied,  regarding  her  with  undis- 
guised admiration;  "and  old  Father  Time  has  touched  you 
only  to  improve  you  in  every  respect." 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  replied,  coldly,  "I  cannot  help 
the  touch  of  Father  Time,  but  I  wish  it  understood  that 
I  am  no  longer  a  child." 

"Neither  am  I,  sweet  cousin,  and  I  like  you  as  a  woman 
far  better. ' ' 

She  left  the  room  abruptly  to  assist  her  aunt. 

"Jove!  uncle,  but  she  has  grown  to  be  a  beauty.  How 
these  girls  blossom  out  when  their  time  comes!  Can  it  be 
that  I  have  been  absent  a  year?" 

"Yes,  and  your  last  visit  was  but  a  flying  one." 

"And  so  I  fear  this  one  must  be.  The  Yanks  are  on  the 
move,  perhaps  in  this  direction,  and  so  are  we.  It  was  one 
of  their  scouting  parties  that  we  ran  into.  Their  horses 
were  fresher  than  ours  and  they  separated  when  once  in  the 
shadow  of  the  woods.  They  won't  be  slow,  however,  in 
leaving  these  parts,  now  they  know  we  are  here.  I'm  going 
to  take  a  little  well-earned  rest  between  my  scoutings,  and 
make  lo\&e' to  my  cousin.  Olympian  humbugs!  how  hand- 
some and  haughty  she  has  become!  I  didn't  think  the  lit- 
tle minx  had  so  much  spirit." 

"She  has  si^denly  taken  the  notion  that,  since  she  is 
growing  up,  she  can  snap  her  fingers  at  all  the  powers 
that  be." 

"Growing  up!  Why,  uncle,  she's  grown,  and  ready  to 
hear  me  say,  'With  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  endow.'  " 

"But  the  trouble  is,  she  doesn't  act  as  if  very  ready." 

"Oh,  tush!  she  isn't  ready  to  throw  herself  at  the  head 
of  any  one.  That  isn't  the  way  of  Southern  girls.  They 
want  a  wooer  like  a  cyclone,  who  carries  them  by  storm, 
marries  them  nolens  volensj  and  then  they're  happy.  But 
to  be  serious,  uncle,  in  these  stormy  times  Lou  needs  a 
protector.      You've  escaped  for  a  long  time,  but  no  one 


M  *'MISS   LOU"" 

can  tell  now  what  a  day  will  bring  forth.  As  my  wife, 
Cousin  Lou  will  command  more  respect.  I  can  take  her 
within  our  lines,  if  necessary,  or  send  her  to  a  place  of 
safety.  Ah,  here  comes  my  blooming  aunt  to  prepare  for 
supper. ' ' 

"  Welcome  to  The  Oaks,"  she  again  repeated.  *' Never 
more  welcome,  since  you  come  as  defender  as  well  as 
guest." 

"Yes,  aunt;  think  of  a  red-whiskered  Yank  paying  his 
respects  instead  of  me. ' ' 

"Don't  suggest  such  horrors,  please." 

The  gentlemen  now  joined  Miss  Lou  in  the  parlor,  while 
under  Mrs.  Baron's  supervision  Zany,  and  Chunk,  as  gar- 
dener and  man-of-all-work,  with  the  aid  of  others  soon  set 
the  two  tables.  Then  began  a  procession  of  negroes  of  all 
sizes  bearing  viands  from  the  kitchen. 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   POLICY  35 


CHAPTER    IT 

aun'  jinkey's  policy 

ALLAN  SCOVILLB,  for  such  was  the  Qnion  soldier's 
name,  fully  realized  that  he  was  in  the  enemy's 
country  as  he  watched  through  a  cranny  in  the 
cabin  the  shadowy  forms  of  the  Confederates  file  past. 
Every  bone  in  his  body  ached  as  if  it  had  been  broken, 
and  more  than  once  he  moved  his  arms  and  legs  to  assure 
himself  that  they  were  whole.  "Breath  was  just  knocked 
right  out  of  me,"  he  muttered.  "I  hope  that's  the  worst, 
for  this  place  may  soon  become  too  hot  for  me.  My  good 
horse  is  not  only  lost,  but  I  may  be  lost  also  through  him. 
That  queer-looking  darky,  Chunk,  is  my  best  hope  now 
unless  it  is  Miss  Lou.  Droll,  wasn't  it,  that  I  should  take 
her  for  an  angel  ?  What  queer  thoughts  a  fellow  has  when 
within  half  an  inch  of  the  seamy  side  of  life !  Hanged  if  I 
deserve  such  an  awakening  as  I  thought  was  blessing  my 
eyes  on  the  other  side.  From  the  way  I  ache,  the  other 
side  mayn't  be  far  off  yet.  Like  enough  hours  will  pass 
before  Chunk  comes  back,  and  I  must  try  to  propitiate  his 
grandam. " 

He  crawled  painfully  to  the  trap-door  and,  finding  a 
chink  in  the  boards,  looked  down  into  the  apartment  below. 
Aun'  Jinkey  was  smoking  as  composedly  it  might  seem  as 
if  a  terrible  Yankee,  never  seen  before,  was  not  over  her 
head,  and  a  band  of  Confederates  who  would  have  made 
him  a  prisoner  and  punished  her  were  only  a  few  rods 
away.     A  close   observer,    however,    might    have   noticed 


9&  **MISS   LOU" 

that  she  was  not  enjoying  languid  whiffs,  as  had  been 
the  case  in  the  afternoon.  The  old  wotnan  had  put  guile 
into  her  pipe  as  well  as  tobacco,  and  she  hoped  its  smoke 
would  blind  suspicious  eyes  if  any  were  hunting  for  a  stray 
Yankee.  Chunk's  pone  and  bacon  had  been  put  near  the 
fire  to  keep  warm,  and  Scoville  looked  at  the  viands 
longingly. 

At  last  he  ventured  to  whisper,  "Aun'  Jinkey,  I  am  as 
hungry  as  a  wolf. ' ' 

"Hash!"  said  the  old  woman  softly.  Then  she  rose, 
knocked  the  ashes  from  her  pipe  with  great  deliberation, 
and  taking  a  bucket  started  for  the  spring.  In  going  and 
coming  she  looked  very  sharply  in  all  directioDS,  thus  satis- 
fying herself  that  no  one  was  watching  the  cabin.  Ee-enter» 
ing-,  she  whispered,  *'Kin  you  lif  de  trap-do'  ?" 

Scoville  opened  it,  and  was  about  to  descend.  **No,  you 
kyant  do  dat,"  interposed  Aun'  Jinkey,  quickly.  *'Lie  down 
up  dar,  en  I  ban'  you  Chunk's  supper,  fie  gits  his'n  at  de 
big  house.  You's  got  ter  play  possum  right  smart,  mars' r, 
or  you  git  cotched.  Den  we  cotch  it,  too.  You  'speck 
I  doan  know  de  resk  Chunk  en  me  tookin?" 

'* Forgive  me,  Aunt  Jinkey.  But  your  troubles  will  soon 
be  over  and  you  be  as  free  as  I  am. ' ' 

"I  doesn't  want  no  sech  freedom  ez  you  got,  mars'r, 
Lid'n  en  scrugin'  fum  tarin'  en  rarin*  red-hot  gallopers  ez 
Mad  Whately  en  his  men.  Dey'd  des  bun  de  ole  cabin 
en  me  in't  ef  dey  knowed  you's  dar.  Bettah  stop  yo'  mouf 
wid  yo'  supper." 

This  Scoville  was  well  contented  to  do  for  a  time,  while 
Aun*  Jinkey  smoked  and  listened  with  all  her  ears.  Faint 
sounds  came  from  the  house  and  the  negro  quarters,  but  all 
was  still  about  the  cabin.  Suddenly  she  took  her  pipe  from 
her  mouth  and  muttered,  "Dar  goes  a  squinch-owl  tootin'. 
Dat  doan  mean  no  good." 

"Aunt  Jinkey,"  said  Scoville,  who  was  watching  her> 
*'that  screech-owl  worries  you,  doesn't  it?" 

"Dere's  mo'  kin's  ob  squinch-owls  dan  you  'lows  on. 


AUN*   JINKEY'S   POLICY  37 

mars' r.     Some  toots  fer  de  sake  ob  too  tin'  en  some  toots 
in  warnin'." 

"That  one  tooted  in  warning.  Don't  be  surprised  if  you 
hear  another  very  near."  He  crawled  to  the  cranny  under 
the  eaves  and  Aun'  Jinkey  fairly  jumped  out  of  her  chair 
as  she  heard  an  owl  apparently  hooting  on  the  roof  with  a 
vigor  and  truth  to  nature  that  utterly  deceived  her  senses. 
Scoville  repeated  the  signal,  and  then  crept  back  to  the 
chink  in  the  floor.  The  old  woman  was  trembling  and 
looking  round  in  dismayed  uncertainty.  ** There,"  he  said, 
with  a  low  laugh,  '*that  squinch-owl  was  I,  and  the  first 
you  heard  was  one  of  my  men.  Now,  like  a  good  soul, 
make  pones  and  fry  bacon  for  five  men,  and  you'll  have 
friends  who  will  take  good  care  of  you  and  Chunk." 

"De  Lawd  he'p  me!  w'at  comin*  nex' ?  Miss  Lou  wu^ 
a  wishin'  sump'n  ud  hap'n — w'at  ain'  gwinter  hap'n?" 

"Nothing  will  happen  to  harm  you  if  you  do  as  I  say. 
Our  men  may  soon  be  marching  this  way,  and  we'll  remem- 
ber our  friends  when  we  come." 

"I  des  hope  dere'U  be  sump'n  lef  ob  me  ter  reckermem- 
ber,"  said  Aun'  Jinkey,  but  she  rose  to  comply  with  the 
soldier's  requirement,  feeling  that  her  only  course  was  to 
fall  in  with  the  wishes  of  whoever  happened  to  be  upper- 
most in  the  troublous  times  now  foreseen.  She  was  in  a 
terribly  divided  state  of  mind.  The  questions  she  had 
smoked  and  thought  over  so  long  now  pressed  with  be- 
wildering rapidity  and  urgency.  An  old  family  slave,  she 
had  a  strong  feeling  of  loyalty  to  her  master  and  mistress. 
But  they  had  been  partially  alienating  Miss  Lou,  for  whom 
she  would  open  her  veins,  while  her  grandson  was  hot  for 
freedom  and  looked  upon  Northern  soldiers  as  his  deliver- 
ers. Aun'  Jinkey  was  not  sure  she  wished  to  be  delivered. 
That  was  one  of  the  points  she  was  not  through  "pro- 
jeckin'  "  about.  Alas!  events  would  not  wait  for  her  con- 
clusions, although  more  time  had  been  given  her  than  to 
many  others  forced  to  contemplate  vast  changes.  With  a 
shrewd  simplicity  she  decided  that  it  would  be  wise  to  keep 


88  "MISS   LOU" 

on  friendly  terms  with  all  the  contending  powers,  and  do 
what  in  ner  judgment  was  best  for  each. 

'*Hit  des  took  all  de  'visions  we  got,"  she  remarked, 
disconsolately. 

"You'll  soon  have  visions  of  more  to  eat  and  wear  than 
ever  blessed  your  eyes,"  said  Scoville,  encouragingly. 

"Hi!  granny,"  said  Chunk,  peeping  in  at  the  door. 

"How  you  start  me  I"  ejaculated  the  old  woman,  sinking 
into  her  chair. 

"That  you.  Chunk?'*  asked  Scoville.  "Is  the  coast 
clear?" 

"I  reck'n.  Keep  shy  yet  a  while,  mars' r."  A  few  words 
explained  the  situation,  and  Chunk  added:  "You  des  feed 
dem  Yankees  big,  granny.  I'se  pervide  mo'.  I  mus'  go 
now  sud'n.  Made  Aun'  Suke  b'lebe  dat  I  knowed  ob 
chickens  w'at  roos'  in  trees,  en  dey  tinks  I'se  lookin'  fer 
um.  High  ole  times  up  ter  de  house,"  and  he  disappeared 
in  the  darkness. 

In  nervous  haste  Aun'  Jinkey  prepared  the  ample  sup- 
per. Scoville  hooted  again,  a  shadowy  form  stole  to  the 
cabin  for  the  food,  and  disappeared  again  toward  the  run. 
Then  Aun'  Jinkey  prepared  to  compose  her  nerves  by 
another  smoke. 

"Hand  me  up  a  coal  for  my  pipe,  also,"  said  Scoville, 
"and  then  we'll  have  a  sociable  time." 

"I  des  feared  onsosh'ble  times  dis  eb'nin',"  remarked 
Aun'  Jinkey. 

"If  you  knew  how  my  bones  ached,  you'd  help  me  pass 
the  time." 

"Reck'n  mine  ache,  too,  'fo'  I  troo  wid  dis  bus'ness." 

"No,  Aunt  Jinkey,  you  won't  be  punished  for  doing  a 
good  deed.  Your  young  mistress  is  on  your  side,  anyway. 
Who  is  she?" 

"Young  mistis  ain'  got  no  po'r  ef  dey  fin's  out.  She 
nuff  ter  do  ter  hoi'  'er  own." 

"How  comes  it  she's  friendly  to  'we  uns,'  as  you  say 
down  here  ?' ' 


AUN'   JIN  KEY'S    POLICY  39 

"She  ain'  friendly.  You  drap  at  her  feet  ez  ef  you  wuz 
dead,  en  she  hab  a  lil  gyurlish,  soft  heart,  dat's  all.  Didn't 
she  tole  you  dat  she  ain'  on  yo'  side  ?" 

"Well,  bless  her  heart,  then." 

"I  circumscribe  ter  dat  ar." 

"Aren't  you  on  our  side?" 

"I'se  des  'twix  en  'tween  all  de  sides." 

"You're  all  right,  Aunt  Jinkey.  I'd  trust  you  with  my 
life." 

"Reck'n  you  hab  ter  dis  eb'nin'." 

"Well,  about  Miss  Lou — you  say  she  has  trouble  to  hold 
her  own.     How's  that?" 

"Dem's  fambly  matters." 

"And  so  none  of  my  business,  unless  she  tells  me  herself. " 

"How  she  gwine  ter  tol'  you  tings?" 

"Ah,  Aunt  Jinkey,  you've  vegetated  a  great  while  in 
these  slow  parts.  I  feel  it  in  my  bones,  sore  as  they  are,  that 
some  day  I'll  give  you  a  new  dress  that  will  make  you  look 
like  a  spike  of  red  hollyhocks.  You'll  see  changes  you 
don't  dream  of." 

"My  haid  whirlin'  now,  mars'r.  Hope  ter  grashus  I  kin 
do  my  wuk  ter-morrer  in  peace  and  quietness." 

There  was  neither  peace  nor  quietness  at  the  mansion. 
Whately,  with  a  soldier's  instincts  to  make  the  most  of 
passing  opportunities,  added  to  the  hasty  tendencies  of  his 
own  nature,  was  not  only  enjoying  the  abundant  supper, 
but  feasting  his  eyes  meantime  on  the  charms  developed 
by  his  cousin  in  his  absence.  He  knew  of  his  uncle's  wish 
to  unite  the  two  plantations,  and  had  given  his  assent  to 
the  means,  for  it  had  always  been  his  delight  to  tease, 
frighten,  and  pet  his  little  cousin,  whose  promise  of  beauty 
had  been  all  that  he  could  desire.  Now  she  evoked  a  sud- 
den flame  of  passion,  and  his  mind,  which  leaped  to  con- 
clusions, was  already  engaged  in  plans  for  consummating 
their  union  at  once.  He  sought  to  break  down  her  reserve 
by  paying  her  extravagant  compliments,  and  to  excite  her 
admiration  by  accounts  of  battles  in  which  he  would  not 


40  '  ''MISS   LOU' 

have  posed  as  hero  so  plainly  had  he  not  been  flushed  with 
wine.     There  was  an   ominous  fire  in  her  eyes  scarcely  in 
accord  with  her  cool  demeanor.      Unused  to  the  world,  and 
distrusting  her  own  powers,  she  made  little  effort  to  reply 
taking  refuge  in  comparative  silence.     This  course  encour 
aged  him  and  her  uncle.     The  former  liked  her  manifesta 
tion  of  spirit  as  long  as  he  believed  it  to  be  within  control 
To  his  impetuous,  imperious  nature  the  idea  of  a  tame,  in 
sipid  bride  was  not  agreeable;  while  Mr.  Baron,  still  under 
the  illusion  that  she  was  yet  but  a  submissive  child,  thought 
that  her  bad  mood  was  passing  and  would  be  gone  in  the 
morning.     He   little  dreamed   how   swiftly    her   mind   was 
awakening  and  developing  under  the  spur  of  events.     She 
did  not  yet  know  that  her  cousin   was  meditating  such  a 
speedy  consummation  of  his  purpose,    but  was  aware  that 
he  and  all  her  relatives  looked  upon  her  as  his  predestined 
wife.     Now,  as  never  before,  she  shrank  from  the  relation, 
and  in  the  instinct  of  self-preservation   resolved  never  to 
enter  into  it. 

Her  long,  rebellious  reveries  in  solitude  had  prepared 
her  for  this  hour,  and  her  proud,  excited  spirit  surprised 
her  by  the  intensity  of  its  passionate  revolt.  Not  as  a  timid, 
shrinking  maiden  did  she  look  at  her  cousin  and  his  men 
feasting  on  the  piazza.  She  glanced  at  him,  then  through 
the  open  windows  at  their  burly  forms,  as  one  might  face 
a  menace  which  brought  no  thought  of  yielding. 

The  family  resemblance  between  Whately  and  herself 
was  strong.  He  had  her  blue  eyes,  but  they  were  smaller 
than  hers,  and  his  expression  was  bold,  verging  toward 
recklessness.  Her  look  was  steady  and  her  lips  compressed 
into  accord  with  the  firm  little  chin. 

Mrs.  Baron's  ideas  of  decorum  soon  brought  temporary 
relief.  She  also  saw  that  her  nephew  was  becoming  too 
excited  to  make  a  good  impression,  so  she  said,  "Louise, 
you  may  now  retire,  and  I  trust  that  you  will  waken  to- 
morrow to  the  truth  that  your  natural  guardians  can  best 
direct  your  thoughts  and  actions." 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   POLICY  41 

Whately  was  about  to  rise  in  order  to  bid  an  affectionate 
good-night,  but  the  girl  almost  fled  from  the  room.  In  the 
hall  she  met  Chunk,  who  whispered,  "Linkum  man  gittin* 
peart,  Miss  Lou." 

"She'll  be  over  her  tantrum  by  morning,"  said  Mr.  Baron 
in  an  apologetic  tone.  "Perhaps  we'll  have  to  humor  her 
more  in  little  things." 

"That's  just  where  the  trouble  lies,  uncle.  You  and 
aunt  have  tried  to  make  her  feel  and  act  as  if  as  old  as 
yourselves.  She's  no  longer  a  child;  neither  is  she  exactly 
a  woman.  All  young  creatures  at  her  age  are  skittish. 
Bless  you,  she  wouldn't  be  a  Baron  if  she  hadn't  lots  of  red, 
warm  blood.  So  much  the  better.  When  I've  married  her 
she'll  settle  down  like  other  Southern  girls." 

"I  think  we  had  better  discuss  these  matters  more  pri- 
vately, nephew,"  said  Mrs.  Baron. 

"Beg  pardon,  I  reckon  we  had,  aunt.  My  advice,  how- 
ever, is  that  we  act  first  and  discuss  afterward. ' ' 

"We'll  talk  it  over  to-morrow,  nephew,"  said  Mr.  Baron. 
"Of  course  as  guardian  I  must  adopt  the  best  and  safest 
plan." 

Chunk's  ears  were  long  if  he  was  short,  and  in  waiting 
on  a  soldier  near  the  window  he  caught  the  purport  of  this 
conversation. 


42  ''MISS   LOU" 


CHAPTER  V 
whately's  idea  of  courtship 

WHEN  waiting  on  the  table,  Zany  either  stood  like 
an  image  carved  out  of  black  walnut  or  moved 
with  the  -  angular  promptness  of  an  automaton 
when  a  spring  is  touched.  Only  the  quick  roll  of  her  eyes 
indicated  how  observant  she  was.  If,  however,  she  met 
Chunk  in  the  hall,  or  anywhere  away  from  observation, 
she  never  lost  the  opportunity  to  torment  him.  A  queer 
grimace,  a  surprised  stare,  an  exasperating  derisive  giggle, 
were  her  only  acknowledgments  of  his  amorous  attentions. 
*'Ef  I  doesn't  git  eben  wid  dat  niggah,  den  I  eat  a  mule," 
he  muttered  more  than  once. 

But  Chunk  was  in  great  spirits  and  a  state  of  suppressed 
excitement.  '"Pears  ez  ef  I  mout  own  mysef  'fo'  dis  moon 
done  waxin'  en  wanin',''  he  thought.  "Dere's  big  times 
comin,'  big  times.  I'se  yeard  w'at  hap'n  w'en  de  Yanks 
go  troo  de  kentry  like  an  ol  bull  in  a  crock' ry  sto'."  In 
his  .duties  of  waiting  on  the  troopers  and  clearing  the  table 
he  had  opportunities  of  purloining  a  goodly  portion  of  the 
viands,  for  he  remembered  that  he  also  had  assumed  the  role 
of  host  with  a  very  meagre  larder  to  draw  upon. 

Since  the  Confederates  were  greatly  wearied  and  were 
doubly  inclined  to  sleep  from  the  effects  of  a  hearty  supper 
and  liberal  potations,  Mr.  Baron  offered  to  maintain  a  watch 
the  early  part  of  the  night,  while  Perkins  was  enjoined  to 
sleep  with  one  eye  open  near  the  quarters.  Mattresses  and 
quilts  were  brought  down  and.  spread  on  the  piazza  floor, 
from  which  soon  rose  a  nasal  chorus,  "des  like,"  as  Chunk 
declared,  "a  frog-pon'  in  full  bias'." 


WHATELY'S   IDEA    OF   COURTSHIP  43 

Whately,  trained  in  alert,  soldierly  ways,  slept  on  the 
sofa  in  the  parlor  near  his  men.  One  after  another  the  lights 
were  extinguished,  and  the  house  became  quiet.  Chunk  was 
stealing  away  with  his  plunder  through  the  shrubbery  in 
the  rear  of  the  house,  when  he  was  suddenly  confronted 
by  Zany.  'Hi!  you  niggah!"  she  whispered,  'I'se  cotch 
you  now  kyarin'  off  nuff  vittles  ter  keep  you  a  mont.  You 
gwinter  run  away." 

*' You  wanter  run  wid  me  ?"  asked  Chunk,  unabashed. 

"What  you  took  me  fer?" 

"Fer  better  er  wuss,  w'ite  folks  say.  Reck'n  it  ud  be 
fer  wuss  in  dis  case." 

"I  reck'n  de  wuss  ain'  fur  off.  I  des  step  ter  ole  mars' r 
an'  tell 'im  ter 'vestigate  yo'  cabin  dis  eb'nin',"  she  said, 
and,  with  a  great  show  of  offended  dignity,  she  was  about 
to  move  away. 

"Look  yere.  Zany,  doan  yer  be  a  fool.  Doan  you  wanter 
be  a  free  gyurl  ?' ' 

"Ef  you  had  me  fer  wuss  I'd  be  des  'bout  ez  free  ez  Miss 
Lou  w'en  she  mar'ed  ter  Mad  Whately." 

"Hi!  you  year  dat,  too?" 

"I  got  eyes,  en  I  got  years,  en  you  ain'  gwinter  light  out 
dis  night  en  lebe  yo'  granny  en  we  uns.  I  sut'ny  put  a  spoke 
in  yo'  wheel  dat  stop  hits  runnin'." 

Chunk  was  now  convinced  that  he  would  have  to  take 
Zany  into  his  confidence.  He  looked  cautiously  around, 
then  whispered  rapidly  in  her  ear.  "Hi!"  she  exclaimed, 
softly,  "you  got  longer  head  dan  body." 

"I  kin  reach  ter  yo'  lips,"  said  Chunk,  snatching  a 
kiss. 

"Stop  dat  foolishness!"  she  exclaimed,  giving  him  a 
slight  cuff. 

"Zany,  keep  mum  ez  a  possum.  Here's  big  times  comin', 
en  no  un  kin  bender  um,  dough  dey  kin  git  deysefs  in  a 
heap  ob  trouble  by  blarnations.  De  Linkum  men  soon 
gwine  ter  be  top  of  de  heap  an  I'se  gwinter  be  on  top  wid 
um.     Dar  you  be,  too,  ef  you  stan's  by  Miss  Lou  en  me." 


44  ''MISS   LOV" 

"Ve'y  well,  but  I'se  gwinter  keep  my  eye  on  you,  Marse 
Chunk." 

"Reck'n  you  will,  kaze  1  ain'  gwinter  be  fur  off;  en  ef 
you  puts  yo'  eye  on  some  oder  man,  you  soon  fin'  he  ain' 
dar."     With  this  ominous  assurance  he  stole  away. 

Soon  afterward  the  hoot  of  an  owl  was  heard  again; 
shadows  approached  the  cabin;  Scoville,  assisted  by  Chunk, 
joined  them,  and  there  was  a  whispered  consultation.  Sco- 
ville put  the  result  in  the  following  words: 

"The  chance  is  a  good  one,  I  admit.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  we  could  capture  the  Johnnies  and  their  horses,  but 
that's  not  what  we're  out  for.  Besides,  I'm  too  badly 
broken  up.  I  couldn't  ride  to-night.  You  must  go  back 
to  camp,  and  leave  me  to  follow.  Chunk  here  has  pro- 
visions for  you.  Better  be  moving,  for  Whately  will  prob- 
ably be  out  looking  for  you  iathe  morning." 

So  it  was  decided,  and  the  shadows  disappeared.  Sco- 
ville was  put  into  Aun'  Jinkey's  bed,  the  old  woman  saying 
that  she  would  sit  up  and  watch.  Chunk  rubbed  the  bruised 
and  aching  body  of  the  Union  scout  till  he  fell  asleep,  and 
then  the  tireless  negro  went  to  the  spot  where  the  poor  horse 
had  died  in  the  stream.  He  took  off  the  saddle  and  bridle. 
After  a  little  consideration  he  diverted  the  current,  then 
dug  a  hole  on  the  lower  side  of  the  animal,  rolled  him  into 
it,  and  changed  the  brook  back  into  its  old  channel.  Care- 
fully obliterating  all  traces  of  his  work,  he  returned  to  the 
cabin,  bolted  the  door,  lay  down  against  it  so  that  no  one 
could  enter,  and  was  soon  asleep. 

The  next  morning  dawned  serenely,  as  if  Nature  had  no 
sympathy  with  the  schemes  and  anxieties  to  which  the  sev- 
eral actors  in  our  little  drama  wakened.  Whately  was  early 
on  foot,  for  he  felt  that  he  had  much  to  accomplish.  Mr. 
Baron  soon  joined  him,  and  the  young  man  found  in  his 
uncle  a  ready  coadjutor  in  his  plans.  They  were  both  in 
full  accord  in  their  desires,  although  governed  by  different 
motives.  The  old  man  was  actuated  by  his  long-indulged 
greed  for  land,  and  wholly  under  the  dominion  of  his  belief 


WHATELY'S    IDEA    OF    COURTSHIP  45 

that  one  of  the  chief  ends  of  marriage  was  to  unite  estates. 
In  this  instance  he  also  had  the  honest  conviction  that  he 
was  securing  the  best  interests  of  his  niece.  No  one  could 
tell  what  would  happen  if  the  invaders  should  appear,  but 
he  believed  that  the  girl's  future  could  best  be  provided  for 
in  all  respects  if  she  became  the  wife  of  a  Confederate  officer 
and  a  representative  of  his  family. 

Sounds  of  renewed  life  came  from  all  directions;  the 
troopers  rolled  up  their  blankets,  and  went  to  look  after 
their  horses;  Mrs.  Baron  bustled  about,  giving  directions 
for  breakfast;  Chunk  and  Zany  worked  under  her  eye  as 
if  they  were  what  she  wished  them  to  be,  the  automatic 
performers  of  her  will;  Aun'  Suke  fumed  and  sputtered 
like  the  bacon  in  her  frying-pan,  but  accomplished  her 
work  with  the  promptness  of  one  who  knew  that  no  ex- 
cuses would  be  taken  from  either  master  or  mistress;  Miss 
Lou  dusted  the  parlor,  and  listened  stolidly  to  the  gallan- 
tries of  her  cousin.  He  was  vastly  amused  by  her  reserve, 
believing  it  to  be  only  maidenly  coyness. 

Breakfast  was  soon  served,  for  Whately  had  announced 
to  Mr.  Baron  his  intention  of  scouting  in  the  woods  where 
the  Federals  had  disappeared;  also  his  purpose  to  visit  his 
home  and  summon  his  mother  to  his  contemplated  wedding. 
He  and  his  men  soon  rode  away,  and  the  old  house  and  the 
plantation  resumed  their  normal  quiet  aspect. 

It  had  been  deemed  best  not  to  inform  Miss  Lou  of  her 
cousin's  immediate  purpose  until  his  plans  were  a  little 
more  certain  and  matured.  Circumstances  might  arise 
which  would  prevent  his  return  at  once.  Moreover,  he 
had  petitioned  for  the  privilege  of  breaking  the  news  him- 
self. He  believed  in  a  wooing  in  accordance  with  his  na- 
ture, impetuous  and  regardless  at  the  time  of  the  shy  re- 
luctance of  its  object;  and  it  was  his  theory  that  the  girl 
taken  by  storm  would  make  the  most  submissive,  contented 
and  happy  of  wives;  that  women  secretly  admired  men  who 
thus  asserted  their  will  and  strength,  if  in  such  assertion 
every  form  was  complied  with,  and  the  impression  given 


46  "MISS   LOV 

that  the  man  was  resistless  because  he  could  not  resist  the 
charms  which  had  captivated  him.  *'Why,  uncle,"  he  had 
reasoned,  "it  is  the  strongest  compliment  that  a  man  can 
pay  a  woman,  and  she  will  soon  recognize  it  as  such. 
When  once  she  is  married,  she  will  be  glad  that  she  did 
not  have  to  hesitate  and  choose,  and  she  will  always  be- 
lieve in  the  man  who  was  so  carried  away  with  her  that 
he  carried  her  away.  My  course  is  best,  therefore,  on 
general  principles,  while  in  this  particular  instance  we 
have  every  reason  for  prompt  action.  Lou  and  I  have 
been  destined  for  each  other  from  childhood,  and  I'm  not 
willing  to  leave  her  to  the  chances  of  the  hurly-burly  which 
may  soon  begin.  As  my  wife  1  can  protect  her  in  many 
ways  impossible  now." 


/ 

THE   STORM   BEGINS  47 


CHAPTER  YI 

THE   STORM   BEGINS 

OF  late  years  Aun'  Jinkey's  principal  work  had  been 
the  fine  washing  and  ironing  of  the  family,  in  which 
task  she  had  always  been  an  adept.  For  this  reason 
she  had  been  given  the  cabin  near  the  ran  and  an  unusually 
fine  spring.  Miss  Lou  felt  a  kindly  solicitude  and  not  a 
little  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  man  who  in  a  sense  had  been 
thrown  at  her  feet  for  protection.  So  gathering  up  some  of 
her  laces,  she  made  them  an  excuse  for  another  visit  to  Aun' 
Jinkey.  Mrs.  Baron  readily  acquiesced,  for  she  felt  that  if 
there  was  to  be  a  wedding,  the  whole  house  must  be  cleaned 
from  top  to  bottom.  Moreover,  by  such  occupation  her 
mind  could  be  diverted  from  the  dire  misgivings  inspired 
by  the  proximity  of  Yankees.  Under  the  circamstances, 
it  would  be  just  as  well  if  her  niece  were  absent. 

As  the  girl  passed  down  through  the  shrubbery,  she 
found  Chunk  apparently  very  busy.  Without  looking  up 
he  said,  "Doan  be  afeard,  Miss  Lou,  I'se  be  on  de  watch. 
Marse  Linkum  man  right  peart  dis  mawnin'." 

Aun'  Jinkey  was  at  her  washtub  near  the  door,  and  the 
cabin  presented  the  most  innocent  aspect  imaginable.  ' '  Grood- 
morning,"  said  the  girl,  affably.     "How  is  your  patient?" 

"Recovering  rapidly,  thanks  to  your  kindness  and  the 
good  friends  in  whose  care  you  placed  me,"  answered  a 
hearty  voice  from  the  doorway. 

Aun'  Jinkey  made  a  sort  of  rush  to  the  door,  exclaim- 
ing in  tones  that  were  low,  yet  almost  stern,  "Marse  Lin- 


48  *'MISS   LOW' 

kum  man,  ef  you  show  yo'sef — ef  you  doan  stay  by  dat  ar 
ladder  so  you  git  up  sud'n,  I  des  troo  wid  dis  bus'ness! 
Tain'  far  ter  dem  w'at's  reskin'  dere  bodies  en  a'most  dere 
souls!" 

"You  are  right,  aunty,"  said  Scoville,  retreating.  *'It's 
wrong  for  me  to  do  anything  which  might  bring  trouble  to 
you  or  Chunk;  but  I  was  so  eager  to  thank  this  other  good 
Samaritan — " 

"Well,  den,  sit  by  de  ladder  dar,  en  Miss  Lou  kin  sit  on 
de  do'step.  Den  a  body  kin  feel  tiogs  ain'  comin'  ter  smash 
'fo'  dey  kin  breve." 

"Good  Samaritan!"  repeated  Miss  Lou,  taking  her  old 
place  in  the  doorway  where  she  had  so  recently  wished 
something  would  happen;  "you  have  not  fallen  among 
thieves,  sir." 

"My  fear  has  been  that  you  would  think  that  a  thief  had 
fallen  among  the  good  Samaritans.  I  assure  you  that  I  am 
a  Union  soldier  in  good  and  regular  standing." 

"I  reckon  my  uncle  and  cousin  would  scout  the  idea  that 
you,  or  any  of  your  army,  had  any  standing  whatever." 

"That  does  not  matter,  so  that  I  can  convince  you  that  I 
would  not  do  or  say  anything  unbecoming  a  soldier." 

"You  are  a  Yankee,  I  suppose?"  she  asked,  looking  at 
him  with  strong  yet  shyly  expressed  interest. 

"I  suppose  I  am,  in  your  Soathern  vernacular.  I  am 
from  New  York  State,  and  my  name  is  Allan  Scoville." 

"Uncle  says  that  you  Yankees  are  terrible  fellows." 

"Do  I  look  as  if  I  would  harm  you,  Miss  Lou  ?  Pardon 
me,  I  do  not  know  how  else  to  address  you." 

"Address  me  as  Miss  Baron,"  she  replied,  with  a  droll 
little  assumption  of  girlish  dignity. 

"Well,  then,  Miss  Baron,  you  have  acted  the  part  of  a 
good  angel  toward  me. ' ' 

"I  don't  like  such  talk,"  she  replied,  frowning.  "You 
were  merely  thrown  helpless  at  my  feet.  You  didn't  look 
as  if  you  could  do  the  South  much  harm  then.  What  I 
may  feel  to  be  my  duty  hereafter — " 


THE  STORM  BEGINS  49 

"I  have  no  fears  at  all  of  wliat  you  may  do,"  he  inter- 
rupted, with  a  smile  that  made  his  expression  very  pleasing. 

"How  so?" 

"Because  you  are  incapable  of  betraying  even  an  enemy, 
which  I  am  not  to  you.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  a  grateful 
man,  who  would  risk  his  life  to  do  you  a  service.  The 
little  unpleasantness  between  the  North  and  South  will 
pass  away,  and  we  shall  all  be  friends  again." 

"My  uncle  and  cousin — indeed  all  the  people  I  know — 
will  never  look  upon  you  Northern  soldiers  as  friends." 

"Never  is  a  long  time.  I  certainly  feel  very  friendly 
toward  you." 

"I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  am  a  Southern  girl,"  she 
replied  stiffly,  "and  share  in  the  feelings  of  my  people." 

"Well,  I'm  a  Northern  man,  and  share  in  the  feelings  of 
my  people.  Can't  we  agree  that  this  is  fair  and  natural  in 
each  case  ?' ' 

"But  why  do  you  all  come  marauding  and  trampling  on 
the  South?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  Miss  Baron,  but  your  question 
opens  up  all  the  differences  between  the  two  sections.  I 
have  my  views,  but  am  not  a  politician — simply  a  soldier. 
You  and  I  are  not  at  war.  Let  us  talk  about  something 
else.  With  your  brave  cousin  enlisting  your  sympathies 
against  our  side,  what  use  would  there  be  of  my  saying 
anything?" 

"My  brave  cousin  does  not  enlist  any  of  my  sympa- 
thies; but  that,  certainly,  is  a  matter  which  we  cannot  talk 
about." 

"Pardon,  but  your  reference  to  him  made  it  natural — " 

"There  is  no  need  of  speaking  of  him,"  she  interrupted, 
coldly.  "I  merely  meant  that  he  and  those  with  him  in 
what  you  slightingly  term  an  unpleasantness  can  never  be 
friendly  to  you.  This  war  may  be  a  small  thing  to  you, 
but  suppose  your  home  and  family  were  in  danger,  as  ours 
are?" 

"Can  you  think  that  this  war  is  a  holiday  to  me?"  he 

Roe— IX~C 


50  ''MISS   LOU'' 

asked,  gravely.  "What  stands  between  me  now  and  death 
— perhaps  a  shameful  and  horrible  death — except  your 
kindly,  womanly  impulses  ?  I  am  hourly  in  danger  of 
being  caught  and  treated  as  a  spy." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  realize  it,"  said  the  girl,  simply  and 
kindly.  "Everything  looks  so  quiet  and  lovely.  Aun' 
Jinkey,  there,  my  old  mammy,  is  at  work  just  as  I  have 
seen  her  for  years,  and  Chunk  is  busy  yonder  in  the  gar- 
den.    It  is  hard  to  think  how  suddenly  all  might  change." 

"A  soldier  must  think  and  be  prepared." 

"Have  you  no  fear?" 

"Life  is  sweet  to  me.  I  know  only  one  thing — I  must  do 
my  duty  and  trust  in  God.  I  have  the  consolation  that  no 
one  is  dependent  on  me;  no  one  would  grieve  for  me  very 
much.  I'm  quite  alone  in  the  world.  My  crusty  old  guard- 
ian would  inherit  my  property,  and  you  may  well  guess 
that  Aunt  Jinkey 's  tub  yonder  would  hold  all  his  tears  if 
I  should  make  a  sudden  exit, ' '  and  again  he  smiled  in  his 
pleasant  way,  as  if  with  the  purpose  to  relieve  his  words  of 
all  sombreness. 

"Are  you  an  orphan,  too?"  she  asked  sympathetically. 

"Such  a  mature,  fully  developed  orphan  as  I  am  is  not 
an  object  of  pity,  Miss  Baron,"  he  replied,  laughing.  Then 
he  added,  a  little  proudly:  "I'm  nearly  twenty-two;  I  was 
twenty -one  on  my  last  birthday,  and  1  celebrated  it  by  a 
ride  only  less  risky  than  the  one  which  landed  me  at  your 
feet.  But  your  little  word  'too'  suggests  that  you  are  some- 
what alone,  also.  I  hope  that  your  father  was  not  killed  in 
this  war?" 

"No,  my  father  and  mother  died  long  before  the  war." 

"I  am  glad  of  that — not  glad  that  they  died,  but  that  you 
cannot  associate  me  with  the  causes  of  their  death." 

"But  you  and  yours  have  caused  death  and  suffering  to 
so  many  Southern  people!" 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry  it  is  so,  but  things  are  pretty  even  on. 
that  score.     Your  men  give  as  many  blows  as  they  take." 

"  W  hy  did  you  enter  the  army  ?" 


THE   STORM   BEGINS  51 

*'l  suppose  for  about  the  same  reasons  that  your  cousin 
did." 

"Oh,  you  aren't  like  my  cousin  at  all.  I  don't  wish  you 
to  keep  referring  to  him." 

"Well,  then,  I  thought  it  was  right.  There  was  an 
urgent  call  for  men  and  strong  public  feeling.  I  was  at 
college.  1  couldn't  see  others  go  and  not  go  with  them. 
I  had  no  influence,  no  one  to  push  my  interests,  so  I  simply 
enlisted,  and  am  trying  to  pu§h  my  way  by  extra  services. 
Now,  Miss  Baron,  think  for  yourself  a  little.  Here  we  are, 
two  young  people  thrown  together  by  a  strange  chance. 
We  have  been  brougbt  up  differently,  surrounded  by  dif- 
ferent influences.  Even  if  you  think  me  wrong,  can  you 
not  believe  that  I've  followed  my  conscience  and  lived  up 
to  such  light  as  I  had  ?  I  can  believe  this  of  you.  I  don't 
wish  you  to  think  that  we  Yankees  are  monsters.  Do  I 
look  like  a  monster?  Why,  Miss  Baron,  if  I  should  live 
to  be  a  hundred  years  I  should  regard  a  chance  to  do  you  a 
kindness  as  the  best  good-fortune  that  could  befall  me. ' ' 

As  he  spoke  these  words  his  face  flushed,  there  was  a 
slight  quiver  in  his  dark  mustache,  betokening  deep,  honest 
feeling,  and  his  expression  was  one  of  frank  admiration  and 
respect.  She  looked  at  him  in  silent  wonder,  and  asked  her- 
self, "Can  this  be  one  of  the  Yankees  of  whom  I  have  heard 
such  horrible  things?" 

She  began  saying,  "I  am  trying  to  think  for  myself,  but 
I  have  been  so  shut  out  from  the  world  that — "  when  she 
was  suddenly  interrupted.  Chunk  appeared  and  said, 
"Marse  Scoville,  des  git  up  de  ladder  en  shut  de  trap- 
do'  quicker' n  lightnin'.  Miss  Lou,  kin'er  peramberlate 
slow  to'rd  de  bouse,  des  nacbel  like  ez  ef  you  ain'  keerin' 
'bout  not'n.  Wash  away,  granny.  Play  possum,  ev'y 
one." 

Miss  Lou  had  gone  but  a  little  way  before  Mad  Whately 
joined  her,  having  ordered  his  men  to  pass  on  before. 
"Chunk,"  he  shouted,  "take  my  horse  and  rub  him  well, 
or  you'll  get  rubbed  down  yourself." 


52  ''MISS  LOU" 

The  openings  under  the  eaves  in  Ann'  Jinkey's  cabin 
were  so  many  and  large  that  Scoville  had  fairly  good  op- 
portunities for  observing  what  was  going  on  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity.  In  witnessing  the  meeting  between  Whately 
and  Miss  Lou  he  was  conscious  of  a  peculiar  satisfaction 
when  noting  that  her  manner  confirmed  her  words.  The 
dashing  cousin  evidently  was  not  in  favor.  "Well," 
thought  the  scout,  with  a  decisive  little  nod  toward  him, 
"were  I  a  young  Southerner,  you'd  have  a  rival  that  would 
put  you  to  your  best  speed.  What  a  delicious  little  drawl 
she  has  in  speaking,  and  how  charmingly  her  consonants 
shade  off  into  vowels !  I  would  be  more  readily  taken  for 
a  Southerner  than  she,  if  I  did  not  speak.  How  blue  her 
eyes  are !  and  her  fluffy  hair  seemed  a  golden  halo  when  the 
sunshine  touched  it  through  the  trees.  And  then  how  un- 
sophisticated her  face  and  expression !  She  is  a  lady  from 
instinct  and  breeding,  and  yet  she  is  but  a  sweet- faced  child. 
Well !  well !  it  was  an  odd  chance  to  be  pitched  to  the  feet 
of  a  girl  like  that.  Very  possibly  I'd  be  there  again  of  my 
own  free  will  should  I  see  her  often  enough." 

If  Scoville  were  a  rival  now  he  certainly  would  have  to 
take  a  wild  pace  to  keep  up  with  Mad  Whately  in  his  woo- 
ing. His  eyes  were  full  of  resolate  fire  as  he  walked  beside 
his  cousin,  and  her  quick  intuition  took  speedy  alarm  at 
his  expression.  "Well,  sweet  coz, "  he  said,  "the  Yanks 
have  very  prudently  dusted  back  to  the  region  from  which 
they  came.  My  mother  will  give  herself  the  pleasure  of  a 
visit  at  The  Oaks  this  afternoon.  Can  you  guess  her  object 
in   coming?" 

"Why,  as  you  say,  to  give  herself  the  pleasure  of  a 
visit." 

"Yes,  and  you  and  I  will  enhance  her  pleasure  a  thou- 
sand-fold." 

"I  shall  do  all  that  I  can  in  courtesy." 

"I'll  do  the  rest,  for  I  shall  gladden  her  heart  by  marry- 
ing you." 

"What!" 


THE   STORM   BEGINS  53 

*' Simply  that,  nothing  more.     Isn't  that  enough?" 

"Far  too  much,"  replied  the  girl,  hotly.  "I  don't  like, 
such  jesting." 

"Faith  and  it  will  prove  the  best  joke  of  our  lives,  over 
which  we  will  often  laugh  at  our  fireside  hereafter.  Come 
now,  cousin,  make  the  best  of  it;  it  is  the  best  for  you  as 
well  as  for  me.  You  know  I  always  intended  to  marry  you, 
and  I  have  the  hearty  sanction  of  all  the  high  contracting 
powers. ' ' 

She  stopped  abruptly  in  th^  path,  her  face  so  rich  in 
angry  color  that  it  shamed  the  flowers  blooming  in  the 
shrubbery  near. 

"Mr.  Whately,"  she  said,  firmly,  "there  is  one  contract- 
ing power  that  you  have  not  consulted.  How  can  you  marry 
me  when  I  loill  not  marry  you?" 

"Nothing  easier,  pretty  coz. " 

"But  how— how?" 

"Oh,  that  you  will  learn  at  the  proper  time.  Everything 
shall  go  as  simply,  naturally  and  merrily  as  fate.  The 
blessing  of  parent  and  guardian,  the  clergyman  in  robes, 
prayer-book,  wedding  feast — nothing  shall  be  wanting." 

"This  is  absurd  talk,"  she  cried,  and  rushed  to  the 
house.  In  the  upper  hall  she  encountered  her  aunt  engaged 
in  superintending  a  general  dusting  and  polishing  of  the  old- 
fashioned  furniture. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  wild  talk  of  Cousin  Madi- 
son ?"  the  girl  asked,  breathlessly. 

"I've  heard  no  wild  talk,"  was  the  cool  response. 

"Well,  come  into  my  room  and  hear  it,  then." 

Mrs.  Baron  reluctantly  followed,  rather  aggrieved  that 
she  must  bear  the  first  brunt  of  the  storm. 

"What  are  you  putting  the  house  in  such  wonderful 
order  for?"  asked  Miss  Lou,  with  flashing  eyes.  "What 
do  all  these  preparations  mean?  What  is  Aunt  Whately 
coming  here  for  this  evening?" 

"It  is  very  natural  she  should  wish  to  be  present  at  her 
son's  wedding,"  was  the  quiet  and  exasperating  answer. 


54  ''MISS  LOU" 

"When  is  this  wedding  to  be?"  was  the  next  query, 
liccompanied  by  a  harsh  laugh. 

"I  think  we  can  be  ready  by  to-morrow  evening." 

"Are  you  a  woman,  that  you  can  thus  try  to  sacrifice 
the  motherless  girl  committed  to  your  charge  ?' ' 

"So  far  from  sacrificing  you,  I  am  trying  to  further  your 
best  interests,  and  at  the  same  time  carrying  out  the  wishes 
of  my  husband  and  your  guardian.  These  are  solemn  times, 
in  which  you  need  every  safeguard  and  protection.  We  should 
be  faithless,  indeed,  to  our  trust  did  we  not  give  a  brave  sol- 
dier the  best  right  in  the  world  to  shield  and  care  for  you. ' ' 

"Bah!"  cried  the  girl,  now  almost  furious.  "Where's 
uncle?" 

"In  his  office,  I  suppose." 

Whately  had  preceded  her  thither,  and  had  already  made 
known  to  Mr.  Baron  the  nature  of  his  interview  with  his 
cousin,  adding:  "Our  best  policy  will  be  just  to  take  our 
course  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  a  genial,  friendly  way.  We 
certainly  are  the  girl's  best  friends,  and  it  won't  be  long 
before  she  acknowledges  the  fact.  All  we  do  is  to  secure 
her  safety,  welfare  and  happiness.  She  will  be  as  skittish 
as  a  blooded  filly  over  it  all  at  first — a  feature  in  the  case 
which  only  increases  my  admiration  and  affection.  She 
doesn't  and  can't  realize  the  need  of  the  step,  how  it's  best 
for  all  concerned  in  general  and  herself  in  particular.  The 
thing  to  do,  therefore,  is  to  go  right  straight  along.  Mother 
will  be  here  this  evening,  and  will  do  much  toward  talking 
her  into  it.  Lou's  anger  and  revolt  will  probably  be  well 
over  by  to-morrow,  and  all — ' ' 

Further  predictions  were  interrupted  by  the  swift  en- 
trance of  the  girl.  She  stood  still  a  moment  and  regarded 
the  two  men  in  silent  scorn.  "So  you  are  plotting?"  she 
said  at  last. 

"Oh,  dear,  no,  sweet  coz.  Nothing  is  more  foreign  to 
my  nature  than  plotting.     I  am  a  man  of  action." 

"If  your  words  have  any  truth  or  meaning,  you  are  bent 
on  very  dishonorable  action. ' ' 


THE   STORM    BEGINS  55 

**Far  from  it.  I  shall  have  the  sanction  of  both  Church 
and  State." 

"This,  then,  is  the  boasted  Southern  chivalry  of  which 
I  have  heard  so  much. ' ' 

"It  has  been  knightly  in  all  times  to  protect  and  rescue 
lovely  woman. ' ' 

"I  need  no  protection,  except  against  you.  Please  leave 
the  room.     I  wish  to  speak  to  uncle." 

He  attempted  to  kiss  her  hand  as  he  passed  out,  but  she 
snatched  it  away.  "Uncle,"  she  said,  coming  directly  to 
him,  "can  it  be  that  you  sanction  anything  so  wicked  as 
this?  It  seems  as  if  you  and  aunt  were  permitting  my 
cousin  to  put  upon  me  a  cruel  practical  joke." 

"Ahem!  Your  very  words,  Louise,  prove  how  unfit  you 
are  to  judge  and  act  in  accordance  with  this  emergency. 
You  even  dream  that  we  are  in  a  mood  for  jesting  at  this 
time,  when  our  days  and  even  hours  may  be  numbered. 
No,  indeed.  I  am  resolved  to  unite  with  my  protection 
all  the  power  and  dignity  vested  in  a  Confederate  officer." 

"In  other  words,  to  shield  me  against  some  possible  dan- 
ger you  will  try  to  inflict  on  me  the  worst  thing  that  could 
happen. ' ' 

"Hoity-toity!  Is  an  honorable  marriage  which  has 
always  been  contemplated  the  worst  that  could  happen  ? 
If  we  are  driven  forth  by  hordes  of  Northern  vandals,  you 
would  think  it  the  best  thing  that  had  happened. ' ' 

"I  don't  fear  these  Northern  vandals.  I  have" —and 
then  she  checked  herself  in  time. 

"You  don't  fear  them!  Why,  Louise,  every  word  you 
speak  makes  it  more  imperative  that  I  should  act  for  one 
so  utterly  inexperienced  and  ignorant." 

"Do  you  actually  mean  to  say  that  you  will  try  to  marry 
me  against  my  will?" 

"Certainly,  against  your  present  will.  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  can  be  guided  in  my  solemn  trust  by  your  petulance, 
your  ignorant  notions  of  life,  and  your  almost  childish  pas- 
sion ?    In  France,  the  most  civilized  country  in  the  world, 


56  **MISS  LOV 

parents  and  guardians  arrange  these  affairs  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  witli  the  best  results.  It  is  the  general  method 
all  over  the  world.  Far  more  than  mere  family  and  pecuni- 
ary interests  are  concerned  in  this  instance.  We  are  giving 
you  a  protector  in  the  time  of  your  deepest  need. ' ' 

"How  could  Lieutenant  Whately  protect  me  if  the 
Yankees  should  come  in  numbers?" 

"In  more  ways  than  you  can  imagine.  Moreover,  he 
would  probably  be  permitted  to  escort  you  and  your  mother 
to  a  place  of  safety.  .  You  would  have  his  name,  and  the 
name  of  a  Confederate  officer  would  always  entitle  you  to 
respect. ' ' 

"Oh,  this  is  dreadful!"  cried  the  girl,  bewildered  and 
almost  paralyzed  by  the  old  man's  inexorable  words  and 
manner.  So  unsophisticated  was  she,  so  accustomed  to  be 
governed,  that  the  impression  was  strong  that  she  could 
be  controlled  even  in  this  supreme  crisis. 

She  rushed  into  the  parlor,  where  her  cousin  was  striding 
up  and  down  in  a  whirl  of  the  glad  excitement  so  congenial 
to  his  spirit.  ** Cousin  Madison,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  know 
you  are  hasty  and  impetuous,  but  generous  impulses  should 
go  with  such  a  nature.  You  surely  will  not  use  your  advan- 
tage against  an  orphan  girl?" 

"No,  indeed,  dear  coz,  not  against,  but  for  you.  I  love 
you  too  well  to  leave  you  to  the  chances  of  war." 

' '  Oh,  but  this  is  the  certainty  of  evil.  You  know  I  do 
not  love  you.  If  you  would  wait — if  you  would  give  me 
time  to  think  it  all  over — " 

"Why,  so  you  shall  when  I've  escorted  you  and  mother 
to  some  place  where  none  can  molest  or  make  you  afraid." 

"Escort  me,  then,  as  I  am,  under  your  mother's  care. 
Truly  this  would  be  a  better  way  to  win  my  heart  than  such 
hasty  violence  to  all  my  feelings  and  wishes. ' ' 

"My  dear  Louise,  you  may  think  me  a  hasty,  inconsider- 
ate wooer  to-day,  but  that  is  because  you  do  not  know  all 
that  I  know.  I  must,  like  your  guardians,  be  guided  by 
your  best  welfare.     When  you  learn  to  know  me  as  a  kind, 


THE   STORM  BEGINS  57 

loyal,  considerate  husband,  you  will  appreciate  my  most 
friendly  and  decisive  action  at  this  time.  Yon  are  in  great 
danger;  you  may  soon  be  homeless.  In  the  case  of  one  so 
young  and  fair  as  you  are,  those  who  love  you,  as  you  know 
1  do  passionately,  must  act,  not  in  accordance  with  your 
passing  mood,  but  in  a  way  to  secure  your  peace  and  honor 
for  all  time." 

"Oh,  this  is  all  a  terrible  dream!  You  can — you  can 
protect  me  as  your  cousin,  should  I  need  any  such  protec- 
tion, which  I  cannot  believe.  Northern  soldiers  are  not 
savages.     I  know  it !  I  know  it !' ' 

"How  can  you  know  it?  Have  I  not  seen  more  of  them 
than  you  have  ?  I  tell  you  that  for  the  honor  of  our  house 
I  shall  and  will  give  you  the  protection  of  my  name  at 
once.  Your  uncle  and  aunt  feel  as  strongly  as  I  do  about 
it,  and  your  happiness  will  be  the  only  result.  We  South- 
ern people  take  no  chances  in  these  matters." 

Overwhelmed,  frightened,  bewildered,  the  girl  left  the 
room  and  mournfully  climbed  to  her  own  apartment.  She 
was  too  utterly  absorbed  in  her  own  desperate  plight  to 
observe  Zany  whisking  away  in  the  background. 


58  ''MISS  LOU'' 


m 


CHAPTEK  VII 

DANGERS  THICKENING 

E.  B  AEON  was  scarcely  less  miserable  than  his  ward, 
yet  from  wholly  different  causes.  His  anxieties  con- 
cerning her  were  deep  indeed,  his  very  solicitucie 
impelling  him  toward  the  plan  which  he  was  eager  to  con- 
summate. He  was  distracted  by  fears  and  forebodings  of 
every  kind  of  evil;  he  was  striving  to  fortify  his  mind 
against  the  dire  misgiving  that  the  Confederacy  was  in  a 
very  bad  way,  and  that  a  general  breaking  up  might  take 
place.  Indeed  his  mental  condition  was  not  far  removed 
from  that  of  a  man  who  dreads  lest  the  hitherto  immutable 
laws  of  nature  are  about  to  end  in  an  inconceivable  state 
of  chaos.  What  would  happen  if  the  old  order  of  things 
passed  away  and  the  abominable  abolitionists  obtained  fall 
control  ?  He  felt  as  if  the  door  of  Dante's  Inferno  might  be 
thrown  wide  at  any  moment.  There  was  no  elasticity  in  his 
nature,  enabling  him  to  cope  with  threatening  possibilities; 
no  such  firmness  and  fortitude  of  soul  as  he  might  be  re- 
quired to  exercise  within  the  next  few  hours.  To  start 
with,  he  was  wretched  and  distracted  hj  the  breaking  up  of 
the  methodical  monotony  of  his  life  and  household  affairs. 
Since  general  wreck  and  ruin  might  soon  ensue,  he  had  the 
impulses  of  those  who  try  to  secure  and  save  what  is  most 
valuable  and  to  do  at  once  what  seems  vitally  important. 
Amid  all  this  confusion  and  excitement  of  mind  his  domi- 
nant trait  of  persistence  asserted  itself.  He  would  continue 
trying  to  the  last  to  carry  out  the  cherished  schemes  and 
purposes  of  his  life;  he  would  not  stultify  himself  by  chang- 
ing his  principles,  or  even  the  daily  routine  of  his  life,  as 


DANGERS    THICKENING  59 

far  as  lie  could  help  himself.  If  events  over  which  he  had 
no  control  hastened  action,  such  action  should  be  in  har- 
mony with  previous  purpose  to  the  extent  of  his  power. 
The  plan,  therefore,  of  marrying  his  niece  immediately  to 
her  cousin  doubly  commended  itself  to  him.  It  would 
throw  around  her  additional  safeguards  and  relieve  him  in 
part  from  a  heavy  responsibility;  it  would  also  consummate 
one  of  the  cherished  intentions  of  his  life.  Things  might 
take  a  happy  turn  for  the  better,  and  then  just  so  much 
would  be  gained  and  accomplished. 

Thus  he  reasoned,  and  his  nephew  spared  no  pains  in 
confirming  his  views.  The  truth  urged  by  his  niece  that 
she  did  not  love  her  cousin  seemed  a  small  matter  to  the 
unemotional,  legal  mind  of  the  old  man  when  safety  and 
solid  interests  were  concerned.  "A  child  like  Louise,"  be 
said,  "must  be  taken  care  of,  not  humored."  Mrs.  Baron 
had  long  since  formed  the  habit  of  yielding  complete  defer- 
ence to  her  husband,  and  now  was  sincerely  in  accord  with 
his  views.  She  had  never  had  much  heart;  her  marriage 
had  satisfied  her  ambition,  had  been  pleasing  to  her  kith 
and  kin,  and  she  saw  no  good  reason  why  her  niece  should 
not,  under  any  circumstances,  form  a  similar  union.  That 
the  girl  should  revolt  now,  in  the  face  of  such  urgent  neces- 
sity, was  mere  perverseness.  Sharing  in  her  husband's 
anxieties  and  fears,  she  found  solace  and  diversion  of  mind 
in  her  beloved  housekeeping.  Neither  of  the  old  people 
had  the  imagination  or  experience  which  could  enable  them 
to  understand  the  terror  and  distress  of  their  niece,  whom 
with  good  intentions  they  were  driving  toward  a  hated 
union. 

Dinner  was  served  two  hours  later  than  usual — a  fact  in 
itself  very  disturbing  to  Mr.  Baron;  while  Aun'  Suke,  com- 
pelled to  cook  again  for  the  Confederate  troopers,  was  in 
a  state  of  suppressed  irritation,  leading  her  satellites  to  fear 
that  she  might  explode.  Small,  pale  and  bloodless  as  "ole 
miss"  appeared,  none  of  her  domestics  dared  to  rebel  openly; 
but  if   any  little  darky  came   within   the   reach   of   Aun' 


60  *'M1SS  LOU" 

Suke's  wooden  spoon,  she  relieved  her  feelings  promptly. 
In  dining-room  and  kitchen,  therefore,  was  seething  and 
repressed  excitement.  The  very  air  was  electric  and  charged 
with  rumors. 

Perkins,  the  overseer,  was  at  his  wits'  end,  also,  about 
the  field- hands.  They  were  impassive  or  sullen  before  his 
face,  and  abounding  in  whispers  and  significant  glances 
behind  his  back.  What  they  knew,  how  much  they  knew, 
he  could  not  discover  by  any  ingenuity  of  qnestioning  or 
threatening,  and  he  was  made  to  feel  that  excessive  harsh- 
ness might  lead  to  serious  trouble.  Disturbing  elements 
were  on  all  sides,  in  the  air,  everywhere,  yet  he  could  not 
-lay  his  finger  on  any  particular  culprit. 

Of  all  the  slaves  on  the  plantation.  Chunk  appeared  the 
most  docile  and  ready  to  oblige  every  one.  He  waited  on 
the  Confederate  troopers  with  alacrity,  and  grinned  at  their 
chaffing  with  unflagging  good-nature.  In  all  the  little  com- 
munity, which  included  an  anxious  Union  scout.  Chunk 
was  about  the  most  serene  and  even-pulsed  individual. 
Nature  had  endowed  him  with  more  muscle  than  nerves, 
more  shrewdness  than  intellect,  and  had  quite  left  out  the 
elements  of  fear  and  imagination.  He  lived  intensely  in 
the  present;  excitement  and  bustle  were  congenial  condi- 
tions, and  his  soul  exulted  in  the  prospect  of  freedom. 
Moreover,  the  fact  that  he  had  proved  himself  to  Zany  to 
be  no  longer  a  mere  object  for  ridicule  added  not  a  little 
to  his  elation.  Shrewd  as  himself,  she  was  true  to  her  word 
of  keeping  an  eye  on  him,  and  she  was  compelled  to  see 
that  he  was  acting  his  part  well. 

Miss  Lou  positively  refused  to  come  down  to  dinner. 
Slie  had  buried  her  face  in  her  pillow,  and  was  almost  cry- 
ing her  eyes  out;  for  in  the  confusion  of  her  mind,  resulting 
from  her  training  and  inexperience,  she  feared  that  if  all  her 
kin  insisted  on  her  marriage,  and  gave  such  reasons  as  had 
been  urged  upon  her,  she  must  be  married.  She  was  sorely 
perplexed.  Could  the  Yankees  be  such  ravening  wolves 
as  her  uncle  and  cousin  represented  them  to  be  ?     Certainly 


DANGERS    THICKENING  61 

one  was  not,  but  then  he  might  be  different  from  the  others 
because  he  had  been  to  college  and  was  educated. 

"He  said  he  would  be  glad  to  do  me  any  kindness,"  she 
sobbed.  *'0h,  if  he  could  only  prevent  this  marriage  I  Yet 
what  can  he  do  ?  I  could  not  even  speak  to  a  stranger  of 
my  trouble,  much  less  to  a  Northern  soldier.  I  wish  I  could 
see  my  old  mammy.  She's  the  only  one  who  in  the  least 
understands  me  and  feels  a  lii;tle  like  a  mother  toward  me. 
Oh,  wbat  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  a  motherless  girl  at  such 
a  time!" 

The  powers  below  stairs  concluded  that  it  would  be  best 
to  leave  Miss  Lou  to  herself  for  a  time,  that  she  might  think 
over  and  become  reconciled  to  the  need  and  reasonableness 
of  their  action,  but  Mrs.  Baron  considerately  sent  up  her 
dinner  by  Zany.  The  unhappy  girl  shook  her  head  and 
motioned  the  tray  away. 

"Hi,  now.  Miss  Lou,  w'at  you  tookin  on  so  fer  ?"  asked 
the  diplomatic  Zany. 

"For  more  than  you  can  understand." 

"1  un'erstan's  a  heap  mo'n  you  tink,"  said  Zany,  throw- 
ing off  all  disguise  in  her  strong  sympathy.  "Marse  Whately 
des  set  out  ter  mar'y  you,  ez  ef  you  wuz  a  post  dat  cud  be 
stood  up  en  mar'd  to  enybody  at  eny  time.  Hi  I  Miss  Lou, 
I'se  bettah  off  dan  you,  fer  I  kin  pick  en  choose  my  ole 
man." 

"Everybody  in  the  world  is  better  off  than  I  am." 

"I  wudn't  Stan'  it,  Miss  Lou.  I  sut'ny  wudn't.  I'd 
runned  away." 

"How  could  I  run  away  ?     Where  could  I  go  to  ?" 

"See  yere,  Miss  Lou,"  and  Zany  sank  her  voice  to  a 
whisper,  "dere's  a  Linkum  man" — 

"Hush!  how  did  you  know  that?" 

"Chunk  en  me's  fren's.  Don'  be  'feard,  fer  I'd  like  ter 
see  de  gyurl  dat  kin  beat  me  playin'  possum.  Dat  Linkum 
man  he'p  you  ter  run  away." 

"For  shame,  Zany!  The  idea  of  my  going  away  with  a 
stranger!" 


62  ''MISS  LOU" 

'"Pears  to  me  I'se  rudder  runned  away  wid  one  man  dan 
hab  anoder  man  runned  away  wid  me. ' ' 

"Don't  ever  speak  to  me  of  such  a  thing  again." 

"Well,  den,  Miss  Lou,  de  niggahs  on  dis  plantashon  des 
lub  you,  en  dey  aio'  hankerin'  arter  Marse  Whately.  Ef 
you  say  de  wud,  I  des  belebe  dey  riz  right  up  again  dis 
mar 'age." 

"Oh,  horrible!"  said  the  girl,  in  whose  mind  had  been 
instilled  the  strong  and  general  dread  of  a  negro  insurrec- 
tion. "There,  Zany,  you  and  Chunk  mean  kindly,  but 
neither  you  nor  any  one  can  help  me.  If  either  does  or 
says  anything  to  make  a  disturbance  I'll  never  forgive  you. 
My  cousin  and  the  men  with  him  would  kill  you  all.  I'd 
rather  be  left  alone,  for  I  must  think  what  to  do." 

"I  ain'  say  in'  not'n.  Miss  Lou,  sence  dat  yo'  'quest,  but 
doan  you  gib  up,"  and  Zany  took  her  departure,  resolving 
to  have  a  conference  with  Chunk  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment. 

The  impossible  remedies  suggested  by  Zany  depressed 
Miss  Lou  all  the  more,  for  they  increased  her  impression 
of  the  hopeless  character  of  her  position.  She  felt  that  she 
was  being  swept  forward  by  circumstances  hard  to  combat, 
and  how  to  resist  or  whether  she  could  resist,  were  questions 
which  pressed  for  an  immediate  answer.  She  possessed  a 
temperament  which  warned  her  imperatively  against  this 
hasty  marriage,  nor  was  there  any  hesitancy  in  her  belief 
that  it  would  blight  her  young  life  beyond  remedy.  She 
was  not  one  to  moan  or  weep  helplessly  very  long,  however, 
and  the  first  gust  of  passion  and  grief  having  passed,  her 
mind  began  to  clear  and  face  the  situation.  Looking  out 
of  her  window,  she  saw  that  her  cousin  and  his  men  were 
mounted  and  were  about  to  ride  away  again.  Having  waited 
till  they  had  disappeared,  she  bathed  her  eyes  and  then 
descended  to  her  uncle. 

"Where  has  Lieutenant  Whately  gone?"  she  asked. 

"Your  cousin  does  not  forget,  even  at  such  a  time,  that 
he  is  a  soldier,  and  he  is  scouting  the  country  far  and  wide. 


DANGERS   THICKENING  68 

Moreover,  it  is  his  intention  to  ask  the  Rev.  Dr.  Williams 
to  be  here  to-morrow  evening,  and  a  few  friends  also.  I 
trust  that  by  that  time  your  perverse  mood  will  pass  away, 
and  that  you  will  unite  with  your  kindred  in  their  efforts 
in  your  behalf." 

"Is  there  no  use  of  reasoning  with  you,  uncle — no  use 
of  pleading  with  you?" 

Perkins  stood  in  the  door  and  knocked  to  announce  his 
presence. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Baron,  nervously. 

"Have  you  heard  anything,  sir?" 

"Good  heavens,  no!     Heard  what?" 

"Well,  sir,  I  dunno.  The  field-hands  are  buzzing  like 
bees,  en  I  kyant  get  nothin'  out  of  'em." 

"Well,  Perkins,  be  watchful.  Do  your  best.  God  only 
knows  what's  coming.     You  are  well  armed,  I  suppose?" 

"You  may  reckon  that,  sir,  en  I'll  use  'em  too,  ef  need 
be.  The  hands  are  cute,  mighty  cute.  I  kyant  lay  my 
finger  on  any  one  in  particular,  but  they're  all  a  sort  of 
bilin'  up  with  'citement. " 

"Best  to  stay  among  them  and  be  stern  and  vigilant." 
When  Perkins  withdrew  Mr.  Baron  said  to  his  niece  with 
strong  emotion,  "You  see  we  are  beset  with  danger,  and 
you  talk  of  reasoning  and  pleading  against  my  best  efforts 
for  your  safety.  There  I  I'm  too  harassed,  too  overwhelmed 
with  weighty  subjects  for  consideration,  to  discuss  this 
matter  further.  I  must  give  my  attention  to  securing  some 
papers  of  vital  importance." 

Miss  Lou  departed  with  the  feeling  that  dangers  were 
thickening  on  every  hand,  and  that  she  was  only  one  of  the 
causes  for  anxiety  in  her  uncle's  mind.  She  knew  it  would 
be  useless  to  say  anything  to  her  aunt;  and- with  a  longing 
for  a  little  sympathy  and  advice,  she  resolved  on  another 
visit  to  her  old  mammy,  Aun'  Jinkey. 

The  Union  soldier  had  a  remote  place  in  the  background 
of  her  thoughts,  and  yet  she  felt  that  it  was  preposterous  to 
hope  for  anything  from  him. 


64  *'M1SS   LOU 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"WHEN?" 

THE  vigilant  eyes  and  constant  demands  of  her  mistress 
prevented  Zany  from  giving  Chunic  more  than  a  few 
significant  hints,  but  he  was  quick  to  comprehend 
the  situation.  When  he  saw  Miss  Lou  bending  her  steps 
toward  bis  granny's  cottage,  be  thanked  his  stars  that  the 
garden  was  in  that  direction  also,  and  soon  apparently  was 
very  busy  at  a  good  point  from  which  to  observe  the  cabin. 
In  view  of  the  approaching  wedding  Mrs.  Baron  had  given 
Aun'  Jinkey  much  to  do,  and  she  was  busily  ironing  when 
Miss  Lou  again  stood  within  the  door.  The  old  woman's 
fears  had  been  so  greatly  aroused  that  she  had  insisted  that 
Scoville  should  remain  in  the  loft.  "Folks  '11  be  comin' 
en  gwine  all  the  eb'nin',  en  ole  miss  hersef  mout  step 
dis  away." 

At  the  same  time  her  heart  ached  for  the  young  girl. 
At  sight  of  the  sweet,  troubled  face  the  faithful  creature 
just  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  throwing  her  apron  over  her 
head,  rocked  back  and  forth,  moaning  "You  po'  chile,  you 
po' chile!" 

"Yes,  mammy,"  cried  Miss  Lou,  forgetting  for  the  mo- 
ment that  a  stranger  was  within  hearing.  "I'm  in  desperate 
straits,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

The  trap-door  was  lifted  instantly,  and  Scoville  was 
about  to  descend. 

"You  mustn't  dodat!"  exclaimed  Aun'  Jinkey.  "We's 
all  in  mis'ry  anuff  now." 

"I  hope  that  in  no  sense  I  am  the  cause  of  it,"  said  Sco- 
ville, earnestly. 


''WHEN?**  65 

**0h,  no/'  replied  Miss  Lou,  wiping  her  eyes  hastily, 
**not  directly.  Pardon  rae,  I  forgot  for  the  moment  that 
you  were  here.  My  trouble  is  with  my  family,  and  you 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it  except  as  you  Yankees  are 
coming  South  and  making  trouble  of  every  kind. ' ' 

"Well,  Miss  Baron,"  said  the  scout,  regarding  her  sym- 
pathetically through  the  open  door,  *'it  is  too  late  to  talk 
about  our  coming  South.  Isn't  there  something  I  can  do 
for  you,  to  show  my  gratitude  and  good- will  ?" 

*'0h,  no,  indeed!" 

"De  bes'  ting  you  kin  do,  Marse  Scoville,  is  ter  shet  dat 
do'  an'  kep  still;  den  git  back  ter  yo'  folks  soon  ez  you  kin 
trabble.  We  uns  got  des  ez  much  ez  we  kin  stan'  up  un'er, 
en  ef  dey  foun'  you  yere,  hit  ud  be  de  worl'  comin'  ter 
smash. ' ' 

"If  Miss  Baron  would  tell  me  her  trouble,  she  might  find 
that  I  am  not  so  powerless  to  help  as  I  seem.  Since  she  has 
done  so  much  for  me,  I  have  a  certain  kind  of  right  to  do 
what  I  can  in  return." 

"You  forget,  sir,  that  we  are  strangers  and  aliens." 

"No  one  is  an  alien  to  me  from  whom  I  am  accepting  life 
and  safety,"  and  his  glance  was  so  kind  and  friendly  that, 
in  her  dire  extremity,  she  was  induced  to  ask  a  question. 

"If  you  feel  that  you  owe  anything  to  me,"  she  said, 
hesitatingly,  "tell  me  truly,  if  your  people  came  to  this 
plantation,  would  our  home  be  burned  and  we  all  be  in 
danger  of  insult  and  death?" 

"Is  that  all  you  fear  ?"  he  asked,  smiling. 

"But  answer  me  on  your  word  and  honor." 

"No,  Miss  Baron,  not  from  our  regular  troops.  There 
are  vile  wretches  connected  with  all  armies,  on  your  side  as 
well  as  ours,  who  act  without  orders  or  any  control  except 
their  lawless  will.  If  you  and  your  friends  are  tortured  by 
the  fear  of  Northern  soldiers,  should  they  come  this  way, 
you  may  set  your  mind  comparatively  at  rest.  I  must  add, 
however,  that  our  troops  have  to  live  off  the  country,  and 
so  take  food  for  man  and  beast.     They  also  help  them- 


66  ''MISS   LOW 

selves  to  better  horses  when  they  find  them.  I  have  told 
you  the  truth.  Why,  believe  me,  Miss  Baron,  I  would 
defend  you  with  my  life  against  any  one." 

"Oh,  dear!"  cried  the  girl,  with  another  rush  of  tears, 
*'my  uncle  believes  that  our  house  will  be  burned  and  we 
all  murdered,  and  they  are  going  to  marry  me  to  my  cousin 
against  my  will,  so  that  he  can  take  me  to  a  place  of  safety. " 

"When?"  asked  Scoville,  excitedly. 

"To-morrow  evening." 

Aun'  Jinkey  in  her  trepidation  had  stepped  to  the  door, 
and  there,  sure  enough,  was  Mrs.  Baron  coming  down  the 
path  with  her  hand  full  of  crumpled  muslins.  She  had  ap- 
peared so  silently  and  suddenly  before  Chunk  that  he  had 
started  and  stared  at  her.  When  he  tried  to  edge  oS.  to- 
ward the  cabin,  she  had  said,  sharply,  "Keep  at  your  work. 
What  is  the  matter  with  you?  1  reckon  your  granny  is 
smoking  instead  of  doing  my  work,"  and  she  hastened  her 
steps  to  surprise  the  supposed  delinquent. 

Entering  the  cabin,  she  saw  only  Aun'  Jinkey  ironing, 
and  her  niece  sitting  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  face. 
"Ah!"  said  the  old  lady  to  her  laundress,  "I'm  glad  you 
realize  the  importance  of  doing  my  work  when  it's  needed." 
Then  followed  a  few  brief  directions  in  regard  to  the  articles 
she  had  brought.  "Louise,  I  wish  you  to  come  with  me. 
This  is  no  place  for  you,"  concluded  Mrs.  Baron,  turning 
to  depart. 

The  girl  rose  and  followed  submissively,  for  she  was 
overwhelmed  by  a  confused  sense  of  danger,  not  merely  to 
the  Union  soldier,  but  also  to  her  old  mammy,  who  was 
sheltering  him.  The  extremity  of  her  fears  and  the  fact 
that  Chunk  had  not  come  to  warn  them  led  her  to  dread 
that  her  aunt's  suspicions  were  already  aroused.  Chunk 
gave  her  a  very  anxious  look  as  she  passed,  but  she  only 
shook  her  head  slightly,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  don't 
know." 

The  negro's  elation  and  confidence  now  passed  utterly; 
he  became  deeply  alarmed,  not  only  for  the  scout,  but  for 


''WHEN?''  67 

himself  and  grandmother  as  well.  He  was  not  long  in  com- 
ing to  a  decision.  Whately  and  his  troopers  were  absent, 
and  now,  perhaps,  was  the  best  time  to  act.  After  satisfy- 
ing himself  that  he  was  not  observed,  he  slipped  away  to 
the  cabin. 

When  Mrs.  Baron  finally  disappeared,  Ann'  Jinkey 
sank  into  a  chair  almost  in  a  state  of  collapse.  "0  good 
LawdP'  she  gasped,  "I  des  tremblin'  so  in  my  knee-jints  I 
kyant  stan'." 

"Courage,  Aunt  Jinkey,"  said  Scoville,  through  the 
chink  in  the  floor.  "Try  to  get  Chunk  here  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"1  des  done  beat.     I  kyant  lif  my  han'  no  mo'." 

"Grranny, "  said  Chunk,  sauntering  in,  "you  des  watch 
at  de  do',"  and  without  waiting  for  a  word  he  went  up  the 
ladder,  lifted  the  door  and  closed  it. 

"Ah,  Chunk,  I  wanted  you  badly,"  said  Scoville.  "Do 
you  think  it  possible  for  me  to  get  away  at  once  ?" 

"Dat  des  w'at  I  come  ter  see  'bout,  mars'r,  en  I'se  gwine 
wid  you.  Marse  Whately  and  he  men  all  done  gone  till 
eb'nin'." 

"Well,  there's  no  need  of  further  words.  See  what  you 
can  do  about  getting  horses  and  a  good  start.  I  will  ex- 
plain on  the  way.  Hoot  like  an  owl  when  the  coast  is  clear 
and  you  are  ready." 

A  few  moments  later  Chunk  emerged  from  the  cabin, 
with  careless  mien,  eating  a  pone  of  hoecake. 

"Go  back  to  yer  work,"  shouted  Perkins,  who  was  pass- 
ing in  the  distance. 

This  Chunk  did,  his  eyes  following  the  overseer  until 
the  hated  form  was  lost  to  sight  in  a  distant  field  where  a 
squad  of  hands  were  at  work.  Perkins  was  simply  trying 
to  be  ubiquitous  that  day.  Chunk's  next  step  was  to  steal 
to  the  rear  of  the  stables.  To  his  delight  he  found  that 
Whately  had  left  his  horse  in  order  that  it  might  rest  for 
further  hard  service,  and  had  borrowed  one  of  his  uncle's 
animals  for  the  afternoon  ride.     As  Chunk  was  stealthily 


68  ''MISS    LOW 

putting  on  a  bridle,  a  gruff  voice  asked,  "Wtiat  yer  doin' 
thar?" 

The  negro's  heart  stood  still.  Turning  quickly,  he  saw, 
to  his  dismay,  one  of  the  Confederate  soldiers  lying  on  a  pile 
of  straw.  A  closer  scrutiny  revealed  that  the  man  was 
drowsy  from  partial  intoxication,  and  Chunk,  feeling  that 
he  was  in  for  it  now,  said  boldly:  "Marse  Whately  tole 
me  at  dinner  ter  tek  his  boss  ter  de  run  fer  a  drink  en  ter 
limber  his  jints  'bout  dis  time  in  de  eb'nin'." 

"Very  well;  bring  'im  back  safe  en  sud'n  or  I'll  make 
you  a  head  shorter'n  you  air." 

"Ob  co'se,  mars'r,  I  do  ez  I  tol'.  I  des  ride  ole  bay 
down,  too,  Mout  ez  well  took  'im  ter  water  de  same 
time." 

The  soldier  making  no  response  Chunk  slipped  away 
with  the  horses,  trembling  as  if  in  an  ague  fit.  Nothing 
was  left  for  him  now  but  to  get  away  and  take  his  chances. 
Fortune  in  this  instance,  as  it  often  does,  favored  the  bolder 
course.  The  Confederate  soldier  was  familiar  with  Chunk, 
since  he  had  been  the  waiter  at  the  troopers'  mess;  more- 
over, his  faculties  were  confused  and  blunted  and  he  was 
soon  asleep  again.  Perkins'  back  was  turned  and  every 
one  at  the  mansion  deeply  preoccupied.  Even  Zany,  who 
had  been  charged  not  to  leave  the  dining-room,  was  not  on 
the  watch. 

Chunk  hastened  the  horses  down  the  lane  toward  the 
run,  which  having  reached,  he  looked  cautiously  around, 
then  hooted  in  fairly  successful  imitation  of  the  ominous 
bird  of  night.  Aun'  Jin  key  dropped  into  her  chair  again 
with  an  ejaculation  of  terror. 

"Look  out  of  the  door  and  tell  me  if  you  see  any  one," 
said  Scoville,  quickly. 

Mechanically  she  obeyed,  saying,  "No,  mars'r,  but  dat 
squinch-owl  des  shook  me  like  a  ghos'." 

Before  she  knew  it  he  was  beside  her,  his  eyes  shining 
with  excitement.  "There,"  he  said,  putting  into  the  hand 
he  pressed  a  ten- dollar  bill,  "I'll  see  you  again,  and  you 


won't  be  sorry.  Good-by,"  and  with  a  swift  glance  around 
he  strode  away  toward  the  run.  A  moment  or  two  later  he 
was  mounted  on  the  bare  back  of  Mad  Whately's  horse, 
following  Chunk  down  the  stream  so  that  the  flowing  water 
might  obliterate  the  hoof-prints.  They  soon  left  the  water 
and  put  their  horses  to  a  gallop  toward  the  forest,  within 
whose  shades  they  disappeared.  Both  had  deemed  best 
not  to  tell  Aun'  Jinkey  of  their  departure,  so  that  she 
might  honestly  plead  ignorance. 

With  the  unerring  instinct  of  a  scout  the  soldier  led  the 
way  hour  after  hour  toward  the  point  where  he  expected  to 
find  the  Union  cavalry  force.  On  the  way  he  and  Chunk 
compared  notes,  and  thus  Scoville  more  truly  understood 
Miss  Lou's  position.  "We  must  be  back  to-morrow  after- 
noon," he  said,  "in  time  to  prevent  this  marriage.  So, 
Chunk,  be  careful.  You  must  not  get  sleepy  or  let  your 
horse  stumble." 

Leaving  them  to  pursue  their  way  to  the  northwest,  we 
can  return  to  The  Oaks.  Miss  Lou  followed  her  aunt  into 
the  house,  burdened  for  the  moment  with  a  new  and  press- 
ing anxiety.  Did  the  resolute  old  lady  suspect  that  one  of 
the  class  which  she  most  detested  had  been  concealed  within 
earshot  of  her  voice,  and  would  a  search  be  instituted  ?  The 
girl's  sympathies  bad  gone  out  to  the  stranger,  and  the  fact 
that  he  so  trusted  her  appealed  strongly  to  her  woman's 
nature.  In  her  alienation  from  her  relatives  she  was  pecul- 
iarly isolated  and  lonely  at  just  the  period  in  life  when  she 
most  craved  appreciative  understanding,  and  her  intuitions 
led  her  to  believe  that  this  stranger  could  both  understand 
and  respect  her  feelings.  His  genial,  kindly  smile  warmed 
her  sore,  lonely  heart,  and  convinced  her  that  there  was  a 
world  of  human  affections  and  simple  faith  as  well  as  of  im- 
perious wills  and  formal  beliefs.  His  words  in  regard  to 
himself  and  the  North  was  another  shock  to  her  confidence 
in  her  uncle  and  aunt,  and  another  proof  that  there  was  no 
good  reason  for  the  marriage  they  were  forcing  upon  her. 

For  a  brief  time  she  watched  with  keen-eyed  interest  to 


70  **MISS   LOW 

see  if  her  aunt  would  take  any  steps  to  have  Aun'  Jinkey's 
cabin  searched.  Her  mind  was  soon  relieved  on  this  score, 
for  she  became  convinced  that  her  uncle  was  distracted  by 
various  anxieties;  while  Mrs.  Baron,  from  force  of  habit 
and  with  the  purpose  of  diverting  her  mind  from  all  she 
feared,  was  pursuing  her  preparations  with  restless  energy, 
keeping  every  one  in  her  employ  as  busy  as  herself.  It  was 
evident  that  her  niece's  idle  hands  and  perturbed  wander- 
ings to  and  fro  annoyed  her,  and  at  last  she  broke  out: 
''Louise,  it  would  be  much  more  becoming  in  you  to  unite 
with  me  in  my  efforts.  The  idea  of  your  sitting  and  idly 
bemoaning  your  case  in  that  foolish  old  woman's  cabin! 
I'm  glad  you  had  the  grace  to  show  obedience  to  me  before 
her,  for  this  is  a  time  when  to  our  people  the  example  of 
obedience  is  most  necessary,  and  you  should  be  the  first  to 
set  it  in  all  respects.  It  will  only  increase  the  trouble  which 
your  uncle  and  Perkins  are  having  if  our  people  see  that  you 
are  rebellious.  There  is  much  that  you  should  be  doing  and 
seeing  to,  for  your  uncle  says  that  it  may  be  best  for  you  to 
leave  the  plantation  with  Mrs.  Whately  and  her  son  imme- 
diately after  your  marriage. ' ' 

"I  am  not  married  yet.  I  shall  appeal  to  Aunt  Whately, 
and  if  she  has  a  woman's  heart  she  will  not  sanction  the 
marriage." 

"You  will  find  that  because  she  has  a  woman's  heart, 
and  a  Baron's  heart,  she  will  sanction  it  and  insist  upon  it." 

"We  shall  see,"  replied  the  girl,  turning  to  go  to  her 
room. 

"Louise,  it  is  my  wish  that  you  should  put  your  things 
m  order  to  be  packed  hastily,  if  need  be." 

Miss  Lou  made  no  answer. 


PARALYZED    WITH  SHAME  tl 


CHAPTER  IX 

PARALYZED    WITH   SHAME 

SO  far  from  obeying  her  aunt's  injunctions,  Miss  Lou 
sat  down  by  her  window,  but  she  did  not  note  the 
smiling  spring  landscape  over  which  the  western  sun 
was  throwing  its  long,  misty  rays.  Tears  so  blurred  her 
eyes  and  blinded  her  vision  that  she  could  scarcely  see  at 
all.  At  last  she  was  aroused  by  the  crunching  of  wheels, 
and  became  aware  that  Mrs.  Whately  had  arrived.  From 
what  she  knew  of  this  aunt  she  had  a  good  deal  of  hope 
from  her  appeal,  for  Mrs.  Whately  had  always  seemed  a 
kind-hearted  woman.  True,  she  had  been  over-indulgent 
to  her  son,  and,  in  her  blind  idolatry  of  this  only  child, 
blind  to  his  faults,  always  comforting  herself  with  the 
belief  that  he  was  merely  high-spirited  and  would  settle 
down  when  he  grew  older. 

Miss  Lou  wished  to  speak  to  the  mother  before  the  son 
returned,  and  in  the  hope  of  securing  a  merciful  ally  in  the 
lady,  went  down  immediately  to  receive  her.  Mr.  Baron  was 
on  the  back  porch  calling,  *' Chunk,  where  in  the  mischief 
are  you  ?"  Where,  indeed,  with  the  start  he  had  gained  for 
the  Union  lines  ? 

*'My  dear  niece,"  cried  Mrs.  Whately,  effusively,  "how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you,  and  to  take  you  in  my  arms  on  this 
deeply  interesting  occasion!"  but  the  matron  was  troubled 
at  the  girl's  red  eyes  and  pallid  face. 

"I  will  show  you  to  your  room  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Baron 
to  her  guest,  decisively  and  significantly. 

Miss  Lou  was  right  in  believing  that  the  situation  and 
the  unhappy  appearance  of  the  prospective  bride  would  be 


72  **MISS   LOU" 

explained.  She  had  been  forestalled  in  her  chance  to  make 
an  appeal.  Mrs.  Baron  emphatically  sustained  her  hus- 
band's purpose,  concluding:  "My  dear  sister,  in  this  crisis 
you  will  have  to  take  a  firm  stand  with  the  rest  of  us. 
Louise  is  acting  like  a  perverse  child,  and  no  more  realizes 
the  necessity  and  wisdom  of  our  course  than  a  baby." 

Meantime  the  outcry  for  Chunk  increased,  and  Miss  Lou 
was  troubled  that  he  did  not  respond.  Taking  advantage  of 
the  fact  that  her  mistress  was  upstairs.  Zany  stole  swiftly, 
with  many  a  misgiving,  to  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin. 

"  Whar  dat  gran'boy  o'  you'n  ?"  she  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  Ain'  he  in  de  gyardin  ?" 

"No,  he  ain'.  Does  you  know  whar  he  is?  Bettah  tell 
me  de  truf .     Mout  sabe  you  a  heap  ob  trouble. ' ' 

"Des  you  min'  yo'  business,  en  doan  cum  trapesin'  yere 
'bout  Chunk.     You  talks  ez  ef  you  own  'im. " 

"Ole  mars'r  tinks  he  own  'im,  en  he  des  ayellin'  fer  'im. 
De  oberseer  hollerin',  too,  en  de  lil  niggahs  runnin'  yere, 
dar,  en  yander  lookin'  fer  'im.     Yere  one  ob  um  now." 

With  new  and  direful  forebodings  Aun'  Jinkey  declared 
loudly:  "I  doan  know  what  he  be.  He  ain'  say  not'n  ter 
me  'bout  gwine  any  whar. " 

Uttering  an  angry  and  contemptuous  exclamation,  Zany 
sped  back,  and,  with  a  scared  look,  said  to  Miss  Lou,  "Aun' 
Jinkey  'clar  she  dunno  not'n  'bout  Chunk's  doin's.  Ef  she 
ain'  foolin'  me,  I  des  belebe  he's  runned  away." 

At  these  tidings  and  at  this  suggestion  the  young  girl 
was  almost  distracted.  She  went  instantly  to  the  cabin, 
supposing  that  it  would  soon  be  searched. 

"Mammy!"  she  exclaimed,  "where's  Chunk?" 

"Fo'  de  Lawd,  honey,  I  doan  know.  1  des  gwine  all  ter 
pieces  wid  de  goin's  on." 

"But  people  will  be  here  looking.  Is  he  up  there?" 
asked  the  girl  in  a  whisper. 

"No,  he  des  lit  out  two  hour  ago,  en  he  guv  me  dis" 
(showing  the  money),  "en  say  he  see  me  agin.  I'se  feared 
he'n  Chunk  gwine  off  togeder." 


PARALYZED    WITH   SHAME  73 

**Well,  you  don't  know.  Hide  the  money  and  declare 
you  don't  know  anything.  I'll  stand  by  you  as  far  as 
I  can." 

As  she  hastened  back  she  saw  a  Confederate  soldier  run- 
ning toward  the  hoase  and  Perkins  limping  after  him  as  fast 
as  possible.  Entering  the  rear  door  she  heard  the  soldier 
demanding  fiercely  of  her  uncle,  "Where's  that  cursed  nigger 
you  call  Chunk?" 

"Whom  are  you  addressing,  sir?"  asked  Mr.  Baron, 
indignantly. 

"Well,  see  yere,  boss,"  was  the  excited  reply,  "this  ere 
ain't  no  time  fer  standin'  on  nice  words.  That  cursed  nigger 
o'  your'n  took  the  lieutenant's  horse  ter  the  run  fer  a  drink, 
3n  one  o'  your'n  'long  of  him,  en  me  en  Perkins  kyant  find 
nary  one  of  'em." 

"Yes,  sir,"  added  Perkins  in  great  wrath,  "we  uns  fol- 
lered  the  hoof-prints  ter  the  run  en  inter  the  water,  en 
there's  no  hoof-prints  comin'  back.  That  infernal  nigger 
has  lit  out  with  the  two  horses. ' ' 

"  W  hy  don't  you  go  after  him  then  ?' '  shouted  Mr.  Baron, 
distracted  with  anger  and  accumulating  perplexities.  "He 
can't  be  far  yet." 

"I'd  like  ter  see  the  hoss  on  this  place  that  could  ketch 
the  lieutenant's  black  mare.  Oh,  why  didn't  I  shoot  the 
nigger?",  and  the  soldier  strode  up  and  down  as  if  de- 
mented. 

"You  deserve  to  be  shot  yourself,  sir,  if  you,  who  had 
been  placed  on  guard,  permitted  that  black  rascal  to  take 
the  horses. ' ' 

"Yes,"  replied  the  soldier,-  desperately,  "en  the  lieuten- 
ant is  ther  man  ter  shoot  me — cuss  his  red-hot  blood!"  and 
he  stalked  away  toward  the  stables  as  if  possessed  by  a  sud- 
den resolve. 

Turning  to  enter  the  house,  Mr.  Baron  encountered  his 

niece,  who  had  been  a  witness  to  the  scene,  which  explained 

everything  to  her.     "You  see,  you  see,"  cried  the  old  man, 

"everything  going  to  rack  and  ruin!     Would  to  Heaven 

Roe — ^ly  — D 


74  ''MISS   LOU" 

you  could  be  married  to-night  and  sent  away  to  a  place 
of  safety!" 

* 'Uncle,"  said  tbe  girl,  almost  fiercely,  "did  you  not 
hear  that  man  say  of  my  cousin,  'curse  his  red-hot  blood'  ? 
Is  that  the  kind  of  a  protector  you  would  force  upon  me?" 

"Yes,"  almost  shouted  the  angry  man,  "because  he  has 
the  spirit  to  deal  justly  with  such  reprobates.  He's  just  the 
kind  of  protector  you  need  in  these  lurid  times,  when  it 
seems  as  if  no  one  could  be  trusted.  To  think  that  that 
boy  Chunk,  who  has  been  treated  so  well,  could  play  us 
such  an  infernal  trick !  His  old  crone  of  a  grandam  must 
know  something  about  it,  and  I'll  make  her  tell.  Perkins!" 
and  Mr.  Baron  rushed  toward  the  door  again. 

The  ladies  had  now  descended  and  joined  the  excited 
group  on  the  veranda.  Zany  was  listening  with  craned 
neck  from  the  dining-room  door,  and  other  "yard  folks," 
great  and  small,  were  gathering  also. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  cried  Mrs.  Baron. 

Paying  no  heed  to  her,  Mr.  Baron  said  to  his  overseer, 
"Aun'  Jinkey  must  know  about  this  rascally  flight  and 
theft.     Bring  her  here." 

"Uncle,"  said  Miss  Lou,  firmly,  "Aun'  Jinkey  doesn't 
know  anything  about  Chunk's  disappearance.  I've  been 
to  her  cabin  and  asked  her." 

"As  if  the  cunning  old  witch  would  tell  you  anything! 
Bring  her  here,  I  say,  Perkins.  It's  time  the  spirit  of  insub- 
ordination on  this  place  received  a  wholesome  check." 

"Why!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Baron,  "it  seems  but  a  little 
while  ago  that  Chunk  was  working  quietly  in  the  garden." 

"En  I  reckon  hit  ain't  much  more'n  two  hours  gone 
sence  I  seed  'im  comin'  out  o'  the  cabin,  lazin'  and  eatin' 
hoe-cake,"  added  Perkins  as  he  started  angrily  to  obey  his 
orders. 

"He  had  mischief  in  his  mind,  though,  now  I  think  of 
it."  resumed  Mrs.  Baron,  "for  he  seemed  startled  when  he 
fc-aw  me,  and  tried  to  edge  away  to  the  cabin.  I  thought 
he  was  afraid  I  would  catch  his  granny  smoking  instead  of 


PARALYZED    WITH   SHAME  75 

doing  urgent  work.  Louise,  you  were  in  the  cabin  at  the 
time.  Why  should  Chunk  be  so  anxious  to  get  there  before 
I  did?" 

'*I  have  not  spoken  to  him  this  afternoon,  and  know 
nothing  of  his  movements  except  what  I  have  heard," 
replied  the  girl,  coldly. 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Whately,  'Vhat  troublous 
times  we've  fallen  upon!" 

In  the  silence  which  followed  they  heard  the  gallop  of 
a  horse.  A  moment  later  a  negro  came  running  up  and 
exclaiming,  "Dat  sojer  in  de  stable  des  saddle  he  hoss  en 
put  out  ez  ef  de  debil  wuz  arter  'im!" 

Miss  Lou  smiled  bitterly  as  she  thought,  *'He  evidently 
doesn't  think  it  wise  to  wait  for  my  protector." 

At  this  moment  Mad  W  hately  appeared  cantering  smartly 
up  the  avenue  at  the  head  of  his  men.  Throwing  his  reins 
to  a  colored  boy,  he  strode  smilingly  up  the  steps,  exclaim- 
ing, "Why,  this  is  a  regular  committee  of  reception.  I  am 
doubled  honored  since  my  fair  cousin  is  present  also." 

Miss  Lou  made  no  reply,  and  the  expression  on  all  faces 
led  him  to  ask  quickly,  "Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

The  young  man's  brow  grew  black  as  Mr.  Baron  gave  a 
hasty  explanation.  A  half-suppressed  oath  rose  to  his  lips 
as  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  shouted  to  his  men,  "Halt, 
there!  Let  every  man  mount  and  await  orders.  Simson, 
you  and  two  others  follow  the  guard  I  left  with  my  horse. 
Where's  that  nigger  who  saw  him  start?  Here,  you,  put 
these  men  on  his  track  as  you  value  your  life!  Simson, 
take  him,  dead  or  alive!" 

The  men  saluted,  and  departed  at  once.  The  galloping 
of  their  horses  soon  died  away  in  the  distance.  "Now  for 
this  beldam,"  said  Whately,  sternly,  as  Aun'  Jinkey  ap- 
proached, tottering  in  her  excess  of  fear  and  accompanied 
by  Perkins. 

Miss  Lou  saw  that  her  cousin  was  terribly  excited;  in- 
deed, that  he  fairly  trembled  with  passion.  She  was  scarcely 
less  stirred  herself,  for  she  possessed  much  of  the  hot  blood 


76  ''MISS   L0&" 

of  her  kindred,  and  during  tlie  last  twenty-four  hours  nearly 
all  that  had  occurred  tended  to  fire  her  spirit.  Now  that 
she  saw  her  own  dear  old  mammy  led  cowering  under  the 
hostile  eyes  of  every  one,  she  was  almost  beside  herself  with 
pity  and  anger.  Unaccustomed  to  conventional  restraint, 
reacting  from  long  years  of  repression,  a  child  still  in  some 
respects,  in  others  a  passionate  woman  revolting  at  a  fate 
from  which  her  whole  nature  shrank,  she  was  carried  far 
above  and  beyond  her  normal  condition,  and  was  capable 
of  following  her  impulses,  whatever  they  might  be. 

Aun'  Jinkey  turned  her  eyes  appealingly,  and  was  awed, 
even  in  that  terrible  moment,  by  the  intensity  of  the  girl's 
expression,  as  she  half  consciously  drew  nearer  and  nearer. 
The  field-hands,  deeply  excited,  had  also  edged  up  from 
the  quarters.  Mr.  Baron  and  his  overseer  observed  yet 
tolerated  this,  thinking  that  it  might  be  just  as  well  to 
have  the  negroes  learn  from  Aun'  Jinkey's  experience 
that  authority  would  still  be  sternly  enforced. 

Whately's  headlong  temperament  was  so  overcome  by 
anger  that  he  noted  nothing  except  the  presence  of  one 
whom  he  believed  the  aider  and  abetter  in  his  great  loss, 
for  a  favorite  and  trusty  horse  is  one  of  the  dearest  posses- 
sions of  a  cavalryman, 

"Where's  your  grandson?"  he  demanded,  fiercely. 

"  'i^o'  de  Lawdj  I  dunno,"  gasped  Aun'  Jinkey. 

"The  truth,  now,  or  you'll  be  sorry." 

"I  dunno,  I  dunno.  Ef  he  gone,  he  ain'  say  neber 
a  word  ter  me,  not  eben  good-by." 

"No  use  of  your  lying.  You  knew  the  rascal's  purpose. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  Mr.  Baron  ?     Which  way  did  he  go  ?" 

"I  des  declar,  mars'r,  1  dunno." 

"You  do  know,"  cried  Whately,  driven  almost  to  frenzy, 
"and  I'll  cut  the  truth  out  of  you." 

His  whip  fell  before  he  could  arrest  it,  but  it  struck  the 
arm  and  shoulder  of  Miss  Lou.  She  had  drawn  very  near, 
and,  swift  as  light,  had  sprung  forward  and  encircled  the 
form  of  her  mammy.      There  were  startled  exclamations 


PARALYZED    WITH    SHAME  77 

from  those  near,  echoed  by  a  groan  from  the  negroes,  and 
then  the  girl  spoke  in  stern,  deep  tones,  "You  thought  to 
strike  one  woman,  and  you  have  struck  two.''^ 

Whately  dropped  his  whip  and  stood  with  bowed  head, 
paralyzed  with  shame.  There  were  wild  cries  and  a  sway- 
ing of  the  field-hands  toward  the  house.  The  mounted 
soldiers  drew  their  revolvers  and  looked  from  the  thronging 
black  faces  to  that  of  their  commander,  but  he  paid  no  heed 
to  them.  Perkins  did  not  wait,  however,  but  drawing  his 
weapon,  began  to  limp  toward  the  threatening  mass,  with 
oaths  and  orders  to  disperse.  As  for  Mr.  Baron  and  the 
ladies,  they  were  just  helpless  in  the  whirl  of  events. 

Although  Miss  Lou's  back  was  toward  this  new  phase 
of  the  drama,  she  instantly  and  instinctively  comprehended 
it.  With  a  fear  almost  hereditary,  as  well  as  one  vaguely 
dreaded  from  childhood,  she  recognized  the  possible  horrors 
of  an  insurrection,  her  own  action  the  indirect  cause.  She 
turned  and  sprang  forward  so  swiftly  to  interpose  that  her 
comb  fell  away,  and  her  golden  hair  streamed  behind  her. 
She  stood  between  the  blacks  and  those  who  could  harm 
them;  also  those  whom,  in  their  wild  excitement,  they  were 
ready  to  attack. 

''Silence!"  she  cried;  then  in  the  deep  hush  that  followed 
she  called  out,  in  clear,  ringing  tones:  "Every  friend  of 
mine  will  go  back  to  quarters,  keep  quiet,  and  obey  orders. 
I  promise  that  no  harm  shall  come  to  any  of  you." 

The  men  doffed  their  ragged  hats,  and  a  voice  from  the 
crowd  answered,  "We  'bey  you.  Miss  Lou,  en  we  won'  let 
no  harm  come  ter  you,  noder."  Then  as  the  dense,  angry 
mass  of  a  hundred  or  more  men  and  women  melted  away 
toward  the  quarters,  it  was  seen  that  many  a  heavy  club 
was  carried  among  them.  Miss  Lou  watched  them  silently 
two  or  three  moments,  the  rest  looking  on  in  wonder  and 
suppressed  anger  mingled  with  fear.  The  girl  returned, 
and  taking  her  mammy  by  the  hand,  was  about  to  -lead 
her  into  the  house.  Whately  started  as  she  essayed  to  pass 
him  unheedingly,  and  seized  her  hand.     "Lou,  Cousin  Lou, 


78  ''MISS    LOW 

forgive  me!"  he  cried.  "You  know  I  meant  you  no  such 
indignity. ' ' 

"I  know  you  mean  me  a  greater  one,'  she  replied,  coldly, 
withdrawing  her  hand. 

"See!  I  ask  your  forgiveness  on  my  knees!"  he  urged, 
passionately. 

But  her  heart  was  steeled  against  him,  for  her  very  soul 
was  hot  with  indignation.  "Come,  mammy,"  she  said, 
firmly,  "such  shelter  and  protection  as  I  still  have  in  this 
house  you  shall  share." 

"Louise,  this  is  monstrous!"  began  Mrs.  Baron. 

''NoP^  cried  the  girl.  "This  poor  creature  is  the  nearest 
approach  I  have  ever  known  to  a  mother.  She  doesn't  know 
about  her  grandson,  and  no  one  shall  try  to  cut  the  truth 
out  of  her.  Come,  mammy,"  and  she  led  the  trembling  old 
negress  up  to  her  room.  When  hidden  from  all  eyes  her 
courage  and  excitement  gave  way,  and  she  cried  on  her 
mammy's  breast  like  the  child  she  was. 


A   BAFFLED    DIPLOMATIST  79 


CHAPTER  X 

A  BAFFLED    DIPLOMATIST 

MISS  LOU  left  consternation,  confusion  and  deep 
anxiety  below  stairs.  Mad  Whately  had  his  owq 
code  of  ethics,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  had  committed 
the  unpardonable  sin.  His  mother  was  shocked  and  pained 
beyond  measure.  She  understood  the  feelings  of  her  son, 
and  sympathized  with  him.  Drawing  him  into  the  parlor, 
she  soothed  and  cheered  him  with  the  assurance  that  when 
his  cousin's  anger  passed  she  would  explain  and  intercede. 

"Oh,  mother!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  did  love  her  honestly 
before,  but  now  I  adore  her.  I  must  marry  her,  and  by  a 
lifetime  of  devotion  wipe  out  the  wrong  I  did  not  intend 
to  inflict." 

"It  will  all  come  about  right  yet,  my  boy,"  she  whis- 
pered. "E  never  understood  Louise  before.  I  fear  they 
have  been  too  strict  and  unsympathetic  in  her  bringing 
up,  and  so  she  has  naturally  rebelled  against  all  their 
plans.  You  didn't  think  at  the  time — indeed,  in' our  excite- 
ment we  all  forgot — that  Aun'  Jinkey  was  her  mammy,  and 
you  know  how  strong  that  tie  is,  even  in  your  case,  and  you 
have  always  had  a  mother's  love." 

"Oh,  fool,  fool  that  I  was  in  my  mad  anger!  Brave, 
grand,  heroic  girl!  I'd  have  done  as  much  for  my  old 
mammy;  or  rather  I'd  have  struck  down  a  general  before 
he  should  harm  her.  Oh,  mother,  mother!"  concluded  the 
much-indulged  youth,  "I  must  marry  her.  She  is  just 
the  bride  for  a  soldier.^' 

"Rather  than  have  her  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 


80  ''MISS   LOU"" 

we  will  lead  her  to  see  that  it  is  the  only  thing  to  be  done," 
replied  Mrs.  Whately. 

Perkins  had  a  consultation  with  Mr.  Baron,  as  far  as  that 
desperately  perturbed  old  gentleman  was  capable  of  hold- 
ing one,  the  result  of  which  was  the  decision  to  let  the 
negroes  alone,  provided  they  kept  quiet  and  obeyed.  It 
was  evident  to  both  of  them  that  the  approach  of  Union 
forces,  though  yet  comparatively  distant,  had  produced  the 
usual  demoralizing  effects.  The  government  at  The  Oaks 
had  not  been  harsh,  but  it  had  been  strict  and  animated  by 
a  spirit  which  alienated  sympathy.  The  situation  was  now 
seen  to  be  too  critical  to  admit  of  severity,  all  the  more  as 
the  protection  of  Whately  and  his  troopers  might  soon  be 
withdrawn. 

It  was  a  silent  and  depressing  meal  to  which  they  sat 
down  that  evening,  long  after  the  accustomed  hour,  a  fact 
which  Mr.  Baron  would  not  forget,  even  in  the  throes  of  an 
earthquake.  He  groaned  over  it;  he  groaned  over  every- 
thing, and  especially  over  his  niece,  who  had  suddenly 
developed  into  the  most  unmanageable  element  in  the 
whole  vexed  problem  of  the  future.  He  felt  that  they 
owed  her  very  much,  and  that  she  held  the  balance  of 
power  through  her  influence  over  the  negroes;  and  yet 
he  was  incensed  that  she  was  not  meek  and  submissive 
as  a  young  woman  should  be  under  all  circumstances.  An 
angry  spot  burned  in  each  of  Mrs.  Baron's  cheeks,  for  she 
felt  that  Miss  Lou's  conduct  reflected  very  unfavorably  on 
her  bringing  up.  She  was  so  scandalized  and  vexed  that 
she  could  scarcely  think  of  anything  else.  Mrs.  Whately 
was  all  deprecation  and  apology,  trying  to  pour  oil  on  the 
troubled  waters  in  every  way,  while  her  son  was  as  savagely 
angry  at  himself  as  he  had  been  at  poor  Aun'  Jinkey  and 
her  grandson. 

Most  fortunately  the  main  feature  in  the  case  remained 
undiscovered.  The  fact  that  a  Union  scout  had  been  hidden 
and  permitted  to  depart  would  have  been  another  bomb- 
shell, and  the  consequences  of  its  explosion  would  have 


A    BAFFLED    DIPLOMATIST  81 

been  equally  hard  to  predict  or  circumscribe.  As  it  was, 
Miss  Lou  and  Auq'  Jinkey  received  a  certain  remorseful 
sympathy  which  they  would  have  forfeited  utterly  had  the 
truth  been  revealed.  And  the  secret  did  tremble  on  the  lips 
of  Zany.  She  was  not  only  greatly  aggrieved  that  Chunk 
had  "runned  away"  after  all,  without  her,  and  had  become 
a  sort  of  hero  among  his  own  kind  on  the  plantation,  but 
she  also  felt  keenly  her  own  enforced  insignificance  when 
she  knew  so  much  more  than  that  Chunk  had  merely  de- 
camped. Her  mistress  little  dreamed,  as  the  girl  waited 
stolidly  and  sullenly  on  the  table,  that  she  was  so  swelling 
witli  her  secret  as  to  be  like  a  powder  magazine.  But  fear 
rather  than  faith  finally  sealed  Zany's  lips.  She  was  aware 
that  the  first  question  asked  would  be,  "If  you  knew  so 
much,  why  didn't  you  tell?"  and  she  could  give  no  reason 
which  would  save  her  from  condign  punishment.  Moreover, 
she  hoped  that  Chunk  would  soon  return  with  no  end  of 
"Linkum  men,"  and  then  her  silence  would  be  rewarded. 

Supper  was  sent  up  to  Miss  Lou  and  her  guest,  and  the 
old  woman,  having  at  last  some  sense  of  security,  made  her 
first  good  meal  since  "things  began  to  happen."  Then  she 
hankered  after  her  pipe.  "I'll  get  it  for  you,"  said  the 
warm-hearted  girl.  She  stole  to  the  head  of  the  landing, 
and,  the  hall  below  being  clear  at  the  moment,  she  flitted 
down  and  out  at  the  back  door,  reaching  the  deserted  cabin 
unobserved.  How  desolate  it  looked  in  the  fading  twilight! 
The  fire  was  out  on  the  hearth,  and  the  old  creaking  chair 
was  empty.  But  Miss  Lou  did  not  think  of  Ann'  Jinkey. 
Her  thoughts  were  rather  of  a  stranger  whose  face  had  been 
eloquent  of  gratitude  as  he  offered  to  shield  her  with  his 
life.  Then  she  remembered  his  excited  question  as  to  the 
time  of  the  marriage.  "When  ?"  Had  her  answer  anything 
to  do  with  the  sudden  and  bold  departure  ?  Her  heart  was 
in  a  sudden  flutter.  She  snatched  the  corncob  pipe  and 
tobacco  pouch,  and  sped  back  again  in  a  strange  blending 
of  fear  and  hope.  She  felt  guilty  that  she  could  dare  hope 
to  see  him,  a  Yankee^  again.    "But  his  smile  was  so  pleasant 


82  "MISS   LOU'' 

and  frank !'^  she  murmured.  "Oh,  I  never  remember  to 
have  had  such  genial,  honest,  unreserved  good-will  looked 
at  me  by  any  one  except  mammy,  and  she's  so  old  and 
wrinkled  that  she  can't  look  much  of  anything.  What 
handsome,  kind,  dark  eyes  he  had!  Yet  they  would  all 
say,  'He's  a  monster!'  " 

She  made  her  way  back  in  safety  until  she  reached  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  and  then  came  plump  upon  her  aunt. 
"Where  have  you  been ?"  asked  Mrs.  Baron,  sharply. 

"After  Aun'  Jinkey's  pipe." 

"Horrible!     I  forbid  her  smoking  in  this  house." 

' '  I  shall  permit  her  to  smoke  in  my  room. ' ' 

"You  have  no  right." 

"Very  well;  then  ['11  go  with  her  to  her  cabin.'* 

"My  dear  sister,"  said  Mrs.  Whately,  putting  her  hand 
on  the  irate  lady's  arm,  "I  think  it  will  be  better  to  let  our 
niece  have  her  way  in  such  little  things.  We  must  remem- 
ber that  she  is  no  longer  a  child. " 

"I  think  she  is  acting  like  a  very  perverse  and  foolish 
one;  but  then  rather  than  have  any  more  scenes" — and 
looking  unutterable  things  she  passed  on  down  the  stairs. 

"My  dear,  I  wish  to  see  you  by  and  by.  Won't  you  let 
me?"  said  Mrs.  Whately. 

' '  I  wish  to  see  you — I  must  see  you  before  I  sleep, ' '  re- 
plied the  girl,  decisively. 

"I'll  come  up  soon,  then,  dear." 

Mrs.  Baron  reported  to  her  husband  what  had  occurred, 
but  he  only  groaned.  He  was  scarcely  able  to  do  much 
else  now. 

"Oh,  hang  it!"  exclaimed  Whately,  "what  fiend  directs 
my  luck  this  evening  ?  If  I  had  only  known  she  had  gone 
to  the  cabin,  I  could  have  compelled  her  to  listen  to  me 
and  to  my  apologies. ' ' 

"No  worse  luck  could  have  happened,"  said  his  mother, 
entering.  "You  must  curb  your  impatience,  and  so — par- 
don me  for  saying  it — must  you,  brother  and  sister.  You 
are  driving  the  girl  to  lengths  she  would  never  have  thought 


A    BAFFLED    DIPLOMATIST  83 

of  going.  She  is  excited  and  almost  beside  herself.  You 
forget,  brother,  that  she  is  a  Southern  girl  and  a  Baron, 
and  has  all  the  spirit  of  our  race.  She  is  one  to  be  coaxed, 
to  yield  to  gentle  pressure  and  firm  reasoning,  and  not  to 
be  driven." 

"Oh,  curse  it!  we've  made  a  mess  of  it,  I  fear,"  groaned 
Whately,  who  was  capable  of  violent  alternations  of  mood, 
and  now  was  in  the  valley  of  humiliation  and  almost  despair. 

"Well,  you  must  all  let  me  manage  a  little  now,"  re- 
sumed Mrs.  Whately,  somewhat  complacently,  "or  else 
there  is  no  telling  what  trouble  you  may  have." 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  her  son,  "I  insist  on  mother's  man- 
aging. She  has  always  obtained  what  I  wanted,  and  I  shall 
certainly  throw  my  life  away  if  I  don't  marry  Cousin  Lou." 

"Madison,"  said  his  mother,  tearfully,  "am  I,  who  have 
so  loaded  you  with  kindness,  of  no  account?" 

"Oh,  forgive  me,  mother,  I  can't  do  anything  but  blunder 
to-night.  I'm  all  broken  up,  distracted  by  conflicting  duties 
and  feelings.  I  picked  up  important  information  this  even- 
ing. The  Yankee  column,  halting  in  the  rich  valley  to  the 
northwest,  have  been  ranging  the  country  far  and  near, 
loading  their  wagons  and  resting  their  horses.  They  will 
make  a  move  soon,  and  will  come  this  way  just  as  likely 
as  not.  Our  forces  are  coming  up  from  the  South,  and  there 
certainly  will  be  a  fight  soon  somewhere  in  this  region.  I 
received  a  secret  despatch  at  the  court-house,  after  seeing 
the  minister,  who  will  be  here  early  to-morrow  evening. 
After  the  wedding  I  intend  to  escort  mother  and  my  wife 
south  to  Cousin  Sam  Whately' s.  They  certainly  will  be 
out  of  the  Yankee  line  of  march  there.  Perhaps  you  and 
aunt  had  better  go  too." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Baron.  *'I  intend  to  stay  and  face  it  out 
here.     I  shall  stand  or  fall  on  my  own  hearth. ' ' 

"And  I  shall  remain  with  my  husband,"  added  Mrs. 
Baron,  firmly. 

"Well,  nothing  worse  may  happen  than  a  general  sack 
of  the  place,  but  I  cannot  leave  mother  and  the  girl  who  is 


84  ''MISS   LOU'' 

to  be  my  wife.  I  shall  ride  over  to  our  place  in  the  morn- 
ing for  the  best  horse  on  it,  and  to  see  the  overseer.  I'll 
bring  back  a  few  papers  which  I  will  put  in  your  charge, 
uncle. ' ' 

Thus  they  discussed  the  emergency  till  Mrs.  Whately 
thought  she  could  venture  to  Miss  Lou's  room.  Her  son 
accompanied  her  to  the  door  and  called  out,  '*I  give  you 
my  word,  cousin,  that  Aun'  Jinkey  can  go  to  her  cabin,  and 
that  no  one  shall  disturb  her";  then  he  retreated  to  the 
parlor  again. 

When  Mrs.  Whately  entered  the  room,  she  witnessed 
what  was  not  reassuring.  Miss  Lou's  white  shoulder  was 
bare,  and  upon  it  was  the  long  red  mark  of  the  whip. 
Aun'  Jinkey  was  bathing  the  bruise  with  some  lotion. 
*'My  poor  child!"  said  the  lady,  "Madison  is  almost  beside 
himself  with  grief  and  self-reproach." 

"Please  tell  him,"  replied  the  girl,  "that  I'm  glad  the 
blow  fell  on  me  instead  of  mammy. ' ' 

"Ah,  well,  my  dear,  he  has  asked  forgiveness  and  is 
profoundly  sorry." 

"Hit  soon  be  well,  honey.  Wish  ter  grashus  hit  wuz  me 
dat  hab  it!  en  you  barin'  hit  so  patient,  too,  w'en  I  smokin'. 
Dar,  I  kiver  hit  up  now,  en  hit  ain'  dar  in  de  mawnin'.  I 
reck'n  I  go  back  ter  de  cabin  now,  honey.  I  kin'er  used 
ter  my  own  chimbly  corner.  Miss  Whately  got  sump'n  ter 
say  ter  comfort  you. ' ' 

' 'Very  well,  mammy.  I'  11  see  that  you  have  no  trouble, ' ' 
and  the  old  woman  departed. 

"Surely,  Louise,  you  cannot  expect  any  more  trouble, 
after  my  son  has  said  there  would  not  be  any,"  said  Mrs. 
Whately,  in  a  somewhat  aggrieved  tone. 

"You  must  have  seen,"  was  the  reply,  "that  Cousin 
Madison  hasn't  just  the  kind  of  self-control  which  inspires 
confidence." 

"I  assure  you,  Louise,  that  he  regrets  his  act  as  much 
as  you  can.  You  should,  in  charity,  remember  his  great 
provocation. ' ' 


A    BAFFLED   DIPLOMATIST  85 

**Well,  then,"  Miss  Lou  burst  out,  "let  him  make 
amends.  Here  I  am,  a  defenceless  girl,  with  all  my  kin- 
dred against  me.     He  should  be  the  first  to  defend  me. '  * 

"So  he  wishes  to  do,  my  dear;  and  he  only  craves  the 
most  sacred  right  to  defend  you." 

"Yes,  in  his  own  way,  and  without  any  regard  to  my 
feelings  and  wishes." 

"Indeed,  my  dear,  you  misjudge  him.  You  have  only 
to  yield  one  point  in  order  to  make  him  a  slave  to  your 
wishes." 

"But  that  is  yielding  everything.  Oh,  aunt,  how  can 
you  urge  a  girl  toward  a  loveless  marriage?" 

"Now,  my  dear,  just  listen  patiently  to  me  for  a  few 
moments,"  began  Mrs.  Whately  in  a  wheedling  tone.  "I 
am  older  than  you  are.  I  know  young  girls  are  apt  to  have 
romantic  notions,  but  when  they  reach  my  age  they  find 
that  it  is  ever  best  to  act  in  view  of  good  and  sufficient 
reasons.  Apart  from  the  terrible  emergency  that  is  upon 
us,  you  know  that  we  all  have  had  our  hearts  set  on  this 
marriage  almost  ever  since  you  were  born,  and  we  have 
made  no  secret  of  the  fact.  It  would  be  »  terrible  disap- 
pointment to  us  if  it  should  not  take  place.  I  fear  that  life 
has  been  too  strict  and  narrow  for  you  here,  but  you  know 
that  in  my  home  you  will  dwell  in  an  atmosphere  of  kind- 
ness and  indulgence.  I  will  give  up  to  you  whenever  you 
are  ready  to  take  the  reins  after  these  sore  troubles  are  over. 
But,  Louise,  you  do  not  realize  that  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  a  terrible  emergency.  You  ought  not  to  remain  here. 
Madison  has  arranged  that  we  both  go  south  to  his  cousin 
Sam's." 

"I  don't  wish  to  go!"  cried  the  girl,  wringing  her  hands. 

"Now,  my  dear,  can't  you  just  believe  that  we,  who  are 
more  experienced  and  know  the  danger,  wish  to  do  what  is 
best  for  you  and  what  you  will  soon  see  was  best?" 

"No,  I  cannot!  I  cannot!  I  just  feel  that  I  can't  marry 
my  cousin  without  perjuring  myself." 

"Surely  you  don't  love  any  one  else,  Louise?" 


8(5  '*MISS  LOU'' 

'*What  chance  have  I  had  to  love  any  one,  except  my 
old  mammy  ?  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  love  which 
I  feel  should  lead  to  marriage.  I  have  just  been  treated  like 
a  child,  and  then  without  any  girlhood  at  all  I'm  to  be  mar- 
ried to  one  that  I  shrink  from.  I  feel  in  my  very  soul  that 
it's  all  wrong  and  unjust." 

"But,  my  dear,  you  won't  feel  so  after  you  are  a  wife 
and  safe  in  your  own  home.  You  will  then  feel  that  you 
have  reached  woman's  true  place  and  sphere,  without  incur- 
ring the  risks  and  misfortunes  which  befall  so  many.  Your 
guardians  might  have  shown  more  tact,  perhaps,  but  they 
meant  well,  and  they  wish  you  well,  and  are  seeking  only 
your  welfare.  They  feel  in  honor  bound  to  do  what  is  best 
for  you,  and  not  what,  in  your  inexperience,  you  may  wish 
at  the  moment.  As  for  my  son,  a  warmer-hearted  fellow 
does  not  breathe.  He  loves  you  fondly.  You  can  influ- 
ence him,  you  can  control  him  as  no  other  can,  you  have 
the  strongest  hold  upon  him." 

*'AlasI"  said  the  girl,  divining  the  ultimate  truth,  "you 
love  him  blindly  and  wholly;  you  would  sacrifice  me,  your- 
self and  everything  to  him,  and  because  he  has  always  had 
everything  his  own  way,  he  would  have  me  in  spite  of  the 
whole  protest  of  my  being.  No  one  truly  cares  for  me;  no 
one  understands  me.  I  have  been  thrown  back  upon  books 
and  my  own  nature  for  such  knowledge  as  I  now  so  des- 
perately need,  and  I  feel  that  if  I  am  false  to  my  interests, 
to  what  1  believe  is  right,  my  life  is  spoiled.  I  don't  wish 
to  marry  any  one,  and  as  to  all  these  dangers  you  so  vaguely 
threaten,  I  believe  that  if  there  is  a  good  God,  he  will  take 
care  of  me." 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Whately,  striving  to  hide 
the  fact  that  she  was  baffled,  "we  won't  talk  any  more  about 
it  to-night.  You  are  excited  and  worried,  and  incapable  of 
wise  judgment.  Rest  and  sleep  are  what  you  need  now," 
and  she  kissed  the  girl,  who  did  not  return  the  caress. 

"Wise  judgment!"  she  muttered,  bitterly,  "what  fine 
words  they  use!    So  you,  too,  are  hopelessly  against  me- 


A    BAFFLED    DIPLOMATIST  87 

You  would  give  me  to  jour  son  just  as  you  used  to  give 
him  everything  he  cried  for  when  a  child.  Well,  then,  I'll 
appeal  to  the  minister  himself.  I  don' t  believe  he  can  marry 
me  against  my  will.  At  any  rate,  I  shall  never  give  my 
consent,  never;  and  perhaps  somebody  may  come  in  time. 
My  people  are  teaching  me  to  fear  them  even  more  than  the 
Yankees. ' ' 


88  ''MISS   LOU" 


CHAPTER   XI 
aun'  jinkey's  warning 

THE  night  passed  like  a  lull  in  the  storm.  Perkins 
reported  that  the  negroes  were  quiet,  contenting 
themselves  with  whispering  and  watchfulness.  Aan' 
Jinkey  smoked  and  dozed  in  her  chair,  listening  to  e very- 
sound,  but  no  "squinch-owl"  renewed  her  fears.  The  fam- 
ily at  the  mansion  were  too  perturbed  to  sleep  much,  for  all 
knew  that  the  morrow  must  bring  decisive  events.  The 
three  soldiers  sent  after  the  recreant  trooper  returned  from 
a  bootless  chase  and  were  allowed  to  rest,  but  Whately  saw 
to  it  that  there  was  a  vigilant  watch  kept  by  relief  of  guards 
on  the  part  of  the  others.  He  was  not  very  greatly  encour- 
aged by  his  mother's  report,  but  as  the  hours  passed  the 
habits  of  his  life  and  the  tendencies  of  his  nature  asserted 
themselves  with  increasing  force.  He  would  marry  his 
cousin  on  the  morrow;  he  would  not  be  balked  in  his 
dearest  hope  and  wish.  The  very  resistance  of  the  girl 
stimulated  his  purpose,  for  throughout  all  his  life  nothing 
so  enhanced  his  desire  for  anything  as  difficulty  and  denial. 
The  subduing  the  girl's  high  spirit  into  subservience  to  his 
own  was  in  itself  a  peculiarly  alluring  prospect,  and  he 
proved  how  little  he  appreciated  her  character  by  whiling 
away  part  of  the  night  over  ''Taming  of  the  Shrew."  A 
creature  of  fitful  impulse,  nurtured  into  an  arrogant  sense 
of  superiority,  he  banished  all  compunctions,  persuading 
himself  easily  into  the  belief  that  as  soldier,  officer,  and 
lover  he  was  taking  the  manly  course  in  going  straight  for- 
ward.    "The  idea  of  consulting  a  whimsical  girl  at  such  a 


AUN'    JINKEY'S    WARNING  89 

time,"  he  muttered,  "when  a  Yankee  horde  may  descend 
on  the  plantation  within  forty-eight  hours." 

Miss  Lou  was  quite  as  sleepless  as  himself,  and  also  did 
a  great  deal  of  thinking.  She  had  too  much  pride  to  hide 
and  mope  in  her  room.  Her  high,  restless  spirit  craved 
action,  and  she  determined  to  brave  whatever  happened 
with  the  dignity  of  courage.  She  would  face  them  all  and 
assert  what  she  believed  to  be  her  rights  before  them  all, 
even  the  clergyman  himself.  She  therefore  appeared  at  the 
breakfast  table  with  just  enough  color  in  her  cheeks  and  fire 
in  her  eyes  to  enhance  her  beauty. 

"Ah,  this  is  something  like,"  exclaimed  her  uncle.  "I 
knew  sleep  and  thought  would  bring  back  good  sense." 

Mrs.  Whately  kissed  her  eifusively  and  Mrs.  Baron  for- 
mally, the  girl  submitting  with  like  mien  in  both  instances. 
Her  cousin,  in  accordance  with  his  mood  and  the  policy  he 
had  adopted,  bowed  gallantly  and  with  a  touch  of  grandilo- 
quence in  his  tone  said,  "I  again  apologize  before  all  for  my 
most  unfortunate  act  last  evening." 

She  only  bowed  sileutly  in  reply. 

Then  Whately  assumed  the  air  of  one  who  had  many  and 
weighty  matters  on  his  mind,  his  whole  conversation  con- 
forming to  the  accepted  belief  that  they  were  facing  a  terri- 
ble emergency,  and  that  he,  as  the  practical  head  of  the 
family  at  such  a  time,  must  act  decisively  for  the  best  good 
and  safety  of  all.  "If  I  could  be  governed  in  this  instance," 
he  said,  "only  by  patriotic  feeling  1  would  advise  the  de- 
struction of  all  the  forage  on  the  place  if  convinced  that  the 
Yanks  were  coming  this  way,  but  that  would  incite  them  to 
every  possible  outrage.  Still,  I  truly  believe  that  it  would 
be  best  for  you  and  aunt  to  go  with  us  this  evening. ' ' 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Baron,  "I've  settled  that." 

"Haven't  you  negroes  that  you  can  trust  to  take  the 
stock  off  into  the  woods  for  concealment?" 

"After  Chunk's  rascality  I  won't  trust  any  of  them." 

"Well,  I  shall  adopt  that  plan  at  our  place  this  morning, 
and  leave  as  little  of  value  within  reach  as  I  can  help. ' ' 


90  ''MISS   LOW 

By  a  sort  of  tacit  agreement  it  was  thought  best  not  to 
say  anything  to  Miss  Lou  except  as  Mrs.  W  hately  broached 
the  subject,  it  being  believed  that  a  quiet  ignoring  of  her 
will  and  a  manifest  purpose  to  carry  out  their  own  would 
have  the  most  weight  in  breaking  down  her  opposition. 
Indeed  it  was  a  shrewd  policy,  hard  for  the  young  girl 
to  bear  up  against.  Mrs.  Baron  had  been  enjoined  not  to 
cross  her  in  little  things.  The  busy  housekeeper  was  too 
preoccupied  to  do  so  had  she  been  disposed,  but  it  troubled 
and  incensed  the  girl  to  the  last  degree  to  see  her  bustling 
about,  preparing  for  the  wedding  as  if  it  would  take  place 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Mrs.  W hately 's  affectionate  smiles 
and  encouraging  words  were  even  harder  to  endure.  That 
good  lady  acted  as  if  Miss  Lou  were  a  timid  and  coy  maiden, 
who  merely  needed  heartening  and  reassuring  in  order  to 
face  a  brief  ordeal,  and  then  all  would  be  well.  Her  cousin 
gallantly  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  then  rode  away 
with  part  of  his  men,  saying  cheerfully,  "I'll  manage  every- 
thing for  the  best." 

A  vague  terror  seized  upon  the  girl  and  she  again  sought 
the  refuge  of  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin.  She  must  have  some 
one  to  speak  to  who  understood  her,  who  felt  for  her.  She 
found  that  Mrs.  Baron  had  been  there  before  her,  urging 
the  completion  of  certain  tasks.  Indeed,  the  old  woman 
was  ironing  a  white  muslin  dress  which  looked  very  bridal- 
like. Miss  Lou  recognized  it  as  her  own  gown,  which  might 
naturally  be  worn  on  such  an  occasion. 

"Who  brought  that  here?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"Ole  miss,  honey.  She  said  you  cud  war  dis  or  de  one 
you  hab  on,   des  ez  you  pleases." 

"Aun'  Jinkey,"  said  the  girl  in  an  awed  whisper, 
*'do  you  think  they  can  marry  me  against  my  will?" 

"Miss  Lou,  I  declar  ter  you  I'se  been  smokin'  en  pro- 
^eckin'  ober  dat  mos'  all  night." 

"Well?" 

"Hit  'pears  ter  me  a  orfuUy  mux-up  question.  Yere 
yo'  gyardins,  ole  mars'r  en  ole  miss.     Dey's  des  had  dere 


AUN'   JINKEY'S    WARNING  91 

on  dis  plantasbon  sence  I  wuz  a  gyurl.  You  wuz 
trus'  ter  dem  ter  be  took  keer  on  en  you  tole  me  how  he 
manage  yo'  prop'ty.  He  call  you  he  ward.  I  des  dunno 
w'at  po'r  dat  ward  business  gib  'im.  I'se  yeared  en  my 
day  ob  young  gy urls  mar'ed  yere  en  mar'ed  dar  en  dey 
ain'  sayin'  much  'bout  who  dey  mar'y.  Folks  say  dat  wuz 
de  way  wid  ole  miss.  I  reckermember  dem  days  en  I  year 
ole  mars' r's  fader  talk'n  wid  her  fader  'bout  w'at  dey  call 
set'l'ments  en  po'tions.  Den  ole  miss's  mammy  tole  me  how 
her  young  miss  wuz  cool  ez  a  cowcumber,  en  how  she  say 
her  folks  know  bes'  en  she  sat'sfied;  en  den  how  she  gib  her 
min'  ter  w'at  she  call  her  trosso.  Why  honey,  I  des  doin' 
up  tings  ob  dat  ar  trosso  yit." 

"That's  just  the  trouble  with  aunt,"  said  Miss  Lou 
scornfully.  "I  don't  believe  she  ever  had  heart  enough 
to  love  with." 

"Well,  1  reck'n  ole  mars' r  is  projeckin'  dis  away.  Ole 
miss,  she  settle  down  en  tuck  hole  strong.  She  des  kin'er 
fall  inter  he  ways  en  mek  tings  hum  wid  de  yard  en  house 
folks.  She  des  a  nachel-bawn  housekeeper,  en  we  uns  all 
had  ter  stan  'roun'  en  do  ez  she  sed  sud'n,  we  sutn'y  did;  en 
ole  mars'r,  he  tink  hit  be  des  de  same  wid  you." 

"But  it  won't,  mammy.     I'm  not  like  my  aunt." 

"Dat  you  ain',  honey,  bless  de  Lawd!  Ole  miss  neoer 
Stan'  'twix  me  en  a  whip,  en  she  neber  run  fer  my  pipe  en 
let  her  shol'er  ache  whiles  I  smokes  like  a  ole  himage. 
I'se  only  des  a  s'plainin'  how  dey  feels  'bout  yo'  mar'age." 

"Ah,  but  mammy,  you  know  how  I  feel  about  it.  I  won't 
marry  my  cousin  if  I  can  help  it." 

"Hit's  yo'  feelin's,  honey,  w'at  des  riles  up  my  in'erds 
BO  I  kyant  hardly  wuk.  Dat's  whar  my  projeckin'  gins 
out,  en  I'se  kin'er  stump' d  'bout  hit.  Dey's  gwine  right 
'long  wid  dere  prep' rations  des  ez  ef  dey  cud  do  ez  dey 
pleased.  Dunno  w'at  de  law  is  'bout  hit  ef  dere  is  any  law 
in  dese  mux-up  times.  I'se  des  took  clar  off  my  foots  wid 
all  de  goin's  on.  De  fiel'-han's  at  de  quarters  is  bilin'  ober 
wid  'citement,  en  dey's  sajin'  de  Linkum  men's  comin'  ter 


92  ''MISS  LOU" 

upset  ebryting.  Whar  dey  get  de  news  fum  I  dunno.  Dey 
sez  ole  mars' r  is  'stracted  en  ole  miss  des  put  her  thin  lips 
tergedder  ez  ef  she  gwine  ter  hab  her  way  ter  de  las'  minit. 
Ez  fer  Marse  Whately,  you  knows  he  al'ays  hab  his  way, 
en  ef  dere  isn't  eny  way  he  mek  it.  You  sez  de  min'ster 
en  folks  is  comin'  ?  Hit  des  stumps  me  fer  dem  ter  go  on 
so  ef  dey  hasn't  de  po'r." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  girl  desperately,  "they  will  have 
to  use  force  all  the  way  through.  I'll  never  give  my 
consent." 

"P'raps  w'en  de  min'ster  see  dat  he  woan  mar'y  you." 
"That's  just  my  hope,"  said  the  girl,  "I—" 
A  quick  step  was  heard  and  a  moment  later  Mrs.  Baron 
entered  the  cabin.  Ostensibly  she  came  for  some  of  the 
articles  which  Ann'  Jinkey  had  ironed,  but  Miss  Lou  knew 
she  was  under  surveillance  and  she  departed  without  a 
word.  On  entering  her  room  she  found  that  her  little 
trunk  had  been  packed  and  locked  in  her  absence  and  that 
the  key  was  gone.  She  felt  that  it  was  but  another  indig- 
nity, another  phase  of  the  strong  quiet  pressure  urging  her 
toward  the  event  she  so  dreaded.  A  hunted,  half- desperate 
look  came  into  her  eyes,  but  she  did  not  waver  in  her 
purpose. 

Mrs.  Whately  knocked,  but  the  girl  would  not  admit  her. 
Meanwhile  Mrs.  Baron  said  to  Aun'  Jinkey  in  parting, 
"See  to  it  that  you  don't  put  foolish  notions  in  my  niece's 
head.     We  are  none  of  us  in  a  mood  for  trifling  to-day." 

Then  the  old  woman's  wrath  burst  out.  "You  'speck 
I'se  feared  ter  speak  fer  dat  chile  w'at  stan'  by  me  so? 
Bettah  be  keerful  yosef,  mistis;  you  alls  gittin'  on  ve'y 
scarey  groun'  wid  Miss  Lou.  You  tink  you  kin  do  wid  her 
w'at  you  pleases  des  ez  ef  she  a  lil  gyurl  baby.  I  reck'n 
her  moder  come  out'n  her  grabe  ter  look  arter  you  ef  you 
ain'  keerful." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  such  language?" 
"I  mean  des  dis,  mistis.     Ef  you  tinks  Miss  Lou  ole 
anuff  ter  mar'y  you  know  she  ain'  a  chile.     Ef  she  ain'  a 


AUN'    JINKEY'S    WARNING  98 

chile  she  a  woman.  Does  you  tink  you  kin  tromple  on 
a  woman?  You  kin  tromple  on  me  en  I  ain'  sayin'  not'n, 
but  you  kyant  tromple  on  a  wi'te  woman  like  yosef.  I  tells 
you  you  gittin'  on  scarey  groun'  wid  Miss  Lou." 

"If  you  both  had  sense  you  would  know  we  are  getting 
her  off  scarey  ground,  as  you  call  it.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  obey  my  orders  and  not  meddle. ' ' 

"Ve'y  well,  mistis,  I'se  warn  you,"  said  Aun'  Jinkey, 
sullenly  returning  to  her  work. 

"Warn  me  of  what?"  But  the  old  woman  would  not 
vouchsafe  another  word. 

Mrs.  Baron  returned  to  the  house,  her  lips  compressed 
with  a  firmer  purpose  to  maintain  discipline  on  deck  till 
the  ship  went  down,  if  that  was  to  be  the  end.  Combined 
with  her  cold,  unimaginative  temperament  was  a  stronger 
and  more  resolute  spirit  than  that  of  her  husband,  who  now 
was  chiefly  governed  by  his  lifelong  habit  of  persistence. 
He  adhered  to  his  purposes  as  a  man  at  sea  clings  to  the 
ship  which  he  feels  is  going  to  pieces  beneath  him. 

Chunk  and  Scoville  reached  the  Union  camp  in  the  gray 
dawn  of  the  morning,  and  the  latter  soon  had  an  audience 
with  the  commanding  officer,  with  whom  he  was  a  favorite 
scout.  The  small  party  which  had  been  compelled  to  leave 
Scoville  behind  had  brought  important  information,  gained 
chiefly  by  the  young  man's  daring  and  address,  and  the 
general  was  very  glad  to  see  him  again  and  to  be  assured 
of  his  escape. 

"We  are  ready  to  move,"  said  the  commander,  "and  the 
information  brought  in  by  your  party  has  decided  me  to 
bear  off  to  the  southeast  in  order  to  meet  the  enemy  ap- 
proaching from  the  southwest.  As  soon  as  you  are  rested, 
Lieutenant  Scoville — " 

"Sir!  what?" 

"Yes,  I  had  recommended  you  for  promotion  and  the 
order  has  come." 

"If  zeal  in  your  service,  sir" — began  the  scout  flushing 
proudly. 


94  "MISS   LOU" 

*'Yes,  yes,  I  understand  all  tHat.  1  remember  the  men 
who  serve  me  well.  As  soon  as  you're  able  to  start  out  in 
the  same  direction  again  I  would  like  you  to  do  so." 

**I'm  able  now,"  said  Scoville  eagerly,  and  then  he 
briefly  related  the  situation  of  affairs  at  The  Oaks,  conclud- 
ing, "If  I  had  twenty-five  men  I  believe  I  could  not  only 
prevent  the  marriage  but  capture  all  the  Confederates  with 
their  information.  They  have  been  scouting  up  toward  us 
just  as  we  were  toward  the  enemy." 

"All  right,"  said  the  general,  laughing.  "Perhaps  the 
marriage  may  come  off  yet,  only  with  another  groom." 

"No,  sir,"  said  Scoville,  gravely.  "The  girl  befriended 
me  in  my  sore  need.  She  is  as  good  and  innocent  as  a  child, 
and  I  would  shield  and  respect  her  as  I  would  my  own 
sister. ' ' 

"That's  the  right  spirit.  Lieutenant.  I  was  not  sure  how 
far  matters  had  gone—in  fact,  was  only  jesting." 

Scoville  made  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  within  an  hour,  at 
the  head  of  over  a  score  of  men,  was  rapidly  retracing  his 
steps.  Chunk  following  in  a  state  of  wild  elation.  They  both 
had  been  furnished  with  fresh  horses,  and  the  tough,  elastic 
sinews  of  the  newly- fledged  officer  were  tense  with  an  un- 
wonted excitement.  If  those  tearful  blue  eyes  of  Miss  Lou 
should  welcome  him  as  deliverer  this  would  be  the  most 
memorable  day  of  his  life. 


A    WHIRLWIND    OF  EVENTS  95 


CHAPTER   XII 

A   WHIRLWIND   OF   EVENTS 

WHATELY  returned  wearing  a  rather  gloomy  and 
angry  aspect.  He  had  threatened  his  negroes 
and  stormed  at  them ;  they  had  listened  in  sullen 
silence.  The  overseer  had  said,  "Hit's  the  old  story.  They 
have  heard  that  the  Yanks  are  near  and  may  come  this  way. 
Fact  is,  one  doesn't  know  what  they  haven't  heard.  They 
hold  together  and  keep  mum.  You  can  see  that  all  disci- 
pline is  at  an  end  among  'em." 

Whately  could  only  give  the  man  such  directions  as  the 
emergency  dictated,  obtain  some  valuables,  and  return 
chafed  and  all  the  more  bent  upon  securing  out  of  the 
possible  wreck  the  one  object  he  most  coveted.  But  Miss 
Lou  puzzled  him  and  perplexed  them  all.  She  had  taken 
refuge  in  almost  absolute  silence,  and  was  as  unresponsive 
to  Mrs.  Whately's  endearments  as  to  her  uncle  and  aunt's 
expostulations,  while  toward  Whately  she  was  positively 
freezing  in  her  coldness.  Troubled  and  inwardly  enraged, 
he  was  yet  more  than  ever  determined  to  carry  out  his 
purpose.  His  orders  to  his  men  were  given  sharply  and 
sternly,  and  his  mood  was  so  fierce  that  there  was  no  longer 
any  affectation  or  assumption  on  his  part.  The  girl's  heart 
fluttered  with  nameless  fears,  but  she  had  the  strength  of 
will  to  maintain  the  cold,  impassive  demeanor  she  had  re- 
solved upon.  She  felt  that  it  would  be  useless  to  make 
further  effort  to  influence  her  kindred,  and  that  if  she 
revealed  her  purpose  to  appeal  to  the  clergyman,  they 
might  so  prejudice  his  mind  against  her  that  he  would  not 


96  ''MISS    LOU" 

listen  favorably.  Fearing  that  this  might  be  the  case  any- 
way, she  found  her  thoughts  turning  with  increasing  fre- 
quency to  the  possible  intervention  of  the  Union  scout. 
She  both  hoped  for  and  feared  his  coming,  supported  as 
he  would  be,  in  this  instance,  by  followers  who  might  be 
so  different  from  himself.  She  could  not  free  her  mind 
from  the  influence  of  the  stories  about  Northern  soldiers, 
and  yet  she  was  sure  that  as  far  as  his  power  went,  they 
would  all  be  protected.  Indeed,  one  danger  menaced  so 
closely  and  threateningly  she  could  scarcely  think  of  any- 
thing else  than  escape  and  relief  from  it. 

As  the  sun  began  to  sink  in  the  west  her  uncle  came  to 
her  door  and  said  authoritatively,  "Louise,  I  wish  you 
to  come  down." 

She  obeyed  without  a  word  and  entered  the  parlor  where 
all  were  assembled,  noting  with  dismay  that  the  Eev.  Dr. 
Williams  was  already  present.  Her  cousin  sought  to  meet 
her  gallantly,  but  she  evaded  him  and  took  a  seat.  Mr. 
Baron  began  a  sort  of  harangue.  "Louise,"  he  said,  "as 
your  guardian  and  in  obedience  to  my  sense  of  duty  in 
a  great  responsibility,  1  have  approved  of  this  marriage. 
I  am  convinced  that  the  time  will  speedily  come  when  you 
will  be  glad  that  I — that  we  all — were  firm  at  this  time. 
Both  I  and  your  aunt  are  growing  old.  Troubles,  sore 
indeed  even  for  the  young  to  endure,  are  upon  us.  I  am 
not  sure  that  a  roof  will  cover  our  gray  hairs  much  longer. 
Perhaps  in  the  dead  of  this  very  night  the  ruthless  enemy 
may  come.  Now,  your  aunt  Whately's  carriage  is  at  the 
door.  A  gallant  soldier  and  a  Confederate  officer,  the  choice 
of  all  your  kindred,  is  eager  to  give  you  his  name  and  loving 
protection.  He  will  take  you  far  away  from  war's  rude 
alarms,  with  its  attendant  and  horrible  perils.  We  have 
no  common  foe  to  deal  with,  but  monsters  animated  by 
unquenchable  hatred  and  a  diabolical  spirit.  I  should 
betray  my  trust  and  be  recreant  to  my  duty  did  I  not 
avail  myself  of  the  one  avenue  of  safety  still  open  to  you. 
See,   your  cousin's   brave   men  are  mounted,   armed,   and 


A    WHIRLWIAD    OF   EVENTS  #7 

ready  to  act  as  your  escort.  Dr.  Williams  is  here  to  per- 
form his  good  offices,  although  other  invited  friends  have 
not  ventured  from  home  in  this  time  of  peril  which  recent 
tidings  prove  to  be  increasing  every  hour.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments you  will  be  an  honored  wife,  on  your  way  to  a  place 
of  refuge,  instead  of  a  helpless  girl  whose  defenders  may 
soon  be  scattered  or  dead. ' ' 

"Truly,  Miss  Baron,"  said  the  clergyman,  rising  and 
approaching,  "you  cannot  hesitate  in  circumstances  like 
these." 

Miss  Lou  felt  her  tongue  clinging  to  the  roof  of  her 
mouth,  and  could  only  say  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "But  I  do 
not  love  my  cousin — I  do  not  wish  to  marry. ' ' 

"That  may  be  your  feeling  at  this  moment.  Indeed, 
circumstances  are  not  conducive  to  gentle  amatory  feelings, 
and  all  may  seem  sudden  and  hasty  to  you,  but  you  must 
consider  that  your  relatives  in  this  emergency — indeed  that 
all  your  neighbors — are  doing  many  things  and  taking 
many  precautions  that  would  not  be  thought  of  in  a  time 
of  security.  I  have  already  sent  my  own  family  further 
South,  and  now  in  your  case  and  Mrs.  Whately's  I  feel  that 
time  is  pressing.  Will  you  please  rise  and  take  your  cousin 
by  the  hand?" 

She  shook  her  head  and  remained  motionless.  Whately 
advanced  decisively,  took  her  hand,  and  sought  gently  to 
draw  her  into  position  before  the  clergyman.  His  touch 
broke  the  spell,  the  paralysis  of  dread,  and  she  burst  out, 
"No,  no,  you  cannot  marry  me  when  my  whole  soul  pro- 
tests.    I  will  not  be  married !" 

"Louise,  I  command  you,"  began  Mr.  Baron  excitedly. 

"It  makes  no  difference.  I  will  not!  I  will  not!"  was 
the  passionate  and  almost  despairing  response. 

"Oh,  come,  cousin,  you  are  just  excited,  frightened,  and 
ofE  your  balance,"  said  Whately  soothingly. 

"My  dear  Miss  Baron,"  added  the  clergyman,  "let  me 
reassure  you.  It  is  evident  that  you  are  a  little  nervous 
and  hysterical.  Pray  be  calm  and  trust  your  relatives  to 
*r  Roe— IX— E 


98  "MISS   LOW 

do  what  is  best  for  you.  I  do  not  wonder  that  your  nerves 
have  given  way  and  that — " 

"My  nerves  have  not  given  way.  Unfriended  child  that 
I  am,  I  must  not  lose  self-control.  God  grant  that  my  will 
does  not  give  way." 

"Unfriended!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Whately  reproachfully. 
"Few  girls  in  these  times  have  so  many  to  care  and  think 
for  them.  We  are  all  bent  on  securing  your  welfare  at 
every  cost." 

' '  Yes,  at  every  cost  to  me. ' ' 

"Dr.  Williams  sees  the  wisdom  and  reasonabxcness  of  our 
course.  My  son  is  even  straining  his  sense  of  military  duty 
to  escort  us  to  a  place  of  safety,  where  you  will  still  be 
among  relatives." 

"Then  let  him  escort  me  as  his  cousin,  not  his  wife," 
cried  the  girl. 

"But,  Miss  Baron,  in  the  turmoil  and  confusion  which 
may  ensue  you  will  be  far  safer  as  his  wife,"  Dr.  Williams 
urged.  "I  would  have  been  glad  if  I  could  have  given  my 
daughter  like  protection.  Truly,  it  is  not  wise  to  be  swayed 
by  mere  nervous  excitement  at  such  a  time. ' ' 

"Oh,  even  you,  from  whom  I  hoped  so  much,  are  against 
me!" 

"No,  my  dear  child,"  replied  the  minister,  earnestly  and 
sincerely,  "I  am  for  you  always,  but  I  cannot  help  seeing, 
with  your  relatives,  that  at  present  you  are  not  in  the  quiet 
state  of  mind  which  would  enable  you  to  act  wisely  for 
yourself.  What  earthly  motive  could  I  have  except^  your 
safety,  welfare  and  happiness  ?' ' 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  swift  glance  around 
and  as  if  turning  into  stone,  "do  your  worst.  I  will  never 
give  my  consent,  never/''' 

They  looked  at  each  other  perplexedly  and  inquiringly, 
as  if  to  ask  what  should  be  done,  when  Perkins  burst  in  at 
the  back  door  of  the  hallway  shouting,  "The  Yanks!" 

The  girl  sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  her  burning  face 
for  an  instant.     Deep  in  her  soul  she  divined  who  her  res- 


A    WHIRLWIND    OF  EVENTS  99 

cuer  was,  yet  in  the  midst  of  her  hope  she  felt  a  certain 
consciousness  of  guilt  and  fear.  Mr.  Baron,  Dr.  Williams, 
aad  the  ladies,  half-paralyzed,  yet  drawn  by  a  dreadful 
fascination,  approached  the  open  windows.  Mad  Whately 
now  played  a  better  part.  He  was  in  full  uniform  and  his 
horse  stood  saddled  without.  He  went  to  it,  mounted  with 
almost  the  swiftness  of  light,  and  was  just  in  time  to  see  the 
Federals  sweep  around  the  drive  which  led  to  the  stables. 
Scoville  had  brought  his  little  force  by  the  familiar  way 
of  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin.  Furious  at  being  forestalled,  and 
in  obedience  to  a  headlong  courage  which  none  disputed, 
Whately's  sabre  flashed  instantly  in  the  rays  of  the  sinking 
sun,  and  his  command,  "Charge!"  rang  clear,  without  a 
second's  hesitancy. 

The  order  echoed  in  the  girl's  heart  and  she  felt  that  she 
had  too  much  at  stake  not  to  witness  the  conflict.  Her  own 
high  spirit  also  prompted  the  act,  and  in  a  moment  she  was 
out  on  the  veranda.  She  saw  her  cousin  spur  directly 
toward  the  leader  of  the  Federals,  in  whom  she  recognized 
the  Union  scout.  His  men  came  galloping  after  him,  but 
seemed  more  inclined  to  envelop  and  surround  the  Confed- 
erates than  to  engage  in  hand-to-hand  conflicts.  The  latter 
were  experienced  veterans  and  quickly  recognized  that  they 
were  being  overpowered  and  that  there  was  no  use  in  throw- 
ing away  their  lives.  Hasty  shots  were  fired,  a  few  sabres 
clashed,  but  the  demand,  "Surrender!"  heard  on  all  sides, 
was  so  well  enforced  by  the  aspect  of  the  situation  that 
compliance  soon  began.  Scoville  and  Whately,  with  those 
immediately  about  them,  maintained  the  conflict.  The  two 
young  officers  were  evenly  matched  as  swordsmen,  although 
the  Federal  was  the  larger,  stronger,  and  cooler  man.  As 
a  result,  their  duel  was  quickly  terminated  by  the  loss 
of  Whately's  sabre,  wrenched  from  his  hand.  Then  the 
point  of  his  foe's  weapon  threatened  his  throat,  and  the  word 
"Surrender!"  was  thundered  in  his  ears. 

Instead  of  complying,  he  fell  from  his  horse  as  if  shot, 
lay  still  an  instant,  and  then  in  the  confusion  of  the  melee 


100  ''MISS   LOU" 

glided  through  an  adjacent  basement  door  and  disappeared. 
Seeing  him  fall,  his  mother  uttered  a  wild  shriek  and  gave 
way  to  almost  hysterical  grief.  A  backward  glance  re- 
vealed to  Whately  that  the  fight  was  lost,  or  rather  that 
it  had  been  hopeless  from  the  first,  and  his  one  thought  now 
was  to  escape  and  lead  back  a  larger  force  for  the  purposes 
of  both  rescue  and  vengeance.  Gaining  a  rear  door,  a  bound 
took  him  to  some  shrubbery.  A  second  later  he  was  behind 
the  kitchen.  Aun'  Suke  saw  him,  threw  up  her  hands,  and 
uttered  an  inarticulate  cry.  A  moment  or  two  more  and  he 
was  in  the  stable,  leading  out  a  horse.  All  attention  was 
now  so  concentrated  in  front  of  the  mansion  that  he  was  not 
observed.  He  took  only  time  to  slip  on  a  bridle,  then 
springing  on  the  animal's  bare  back,  he  struck  into  a  field 
behind  a  clump  of  trees.  Putting  the  horse  to  a  run,  he 
was  soon  beyond  successful  pursuit.  Some  of  his  own  men 
had  seen  him  fall  before  they  were  driven  back,  and  be- 
lieved that  he  was  either  wounded  or  dead;  thronging  Fed- 
erals, unaware  of  the  circumstances,  occupied  the  ground, 
and  only  Miss  Lou,  with  an  immense  burden  lifted  from  her 
heart,  saw  his  ruse  and  flight.  She  wished  him  well  sin- 
cerely if  he  would  only  leave  her  to  herself.  Hastening  to 
Mrs.  Whately  she  speedily  restored  the  lady  with  assurances 
of  her  son's  escape,  then  with  her  joined  the  group  on  the 
veranda.  Mr.  Baron,  in  the  crisis  of  his  affairs  and  as  the 
head  of  the  family,  maintained  a  dignity  and  composure 
which  of  late  had  been  lacking. 

Scoville  paid  no  heed  to  them  until  every  vestige  of 
resistance  had  ceased  and  the  Confederates  were  disarmed 
and  collected  as  prisoners.  Then  sitting  on  his  horse  in 
front  of  the  piazza  steps  he  rapidly  gave  his  orders.  His 
first  act  was  to  send  a  vedette  down  the  avenue  toward  .the 
main  road;  then  he  selected  five  men,  saying,  "Take  charge 
of  the  stables,  barn,  and  out-buildings.  Keep  them  as  they 
are  and  permit  no  one  to  approach  without  my  written 
orders. ' ' 

At  this  moment  the  field-hands,  who  had  been  surging 


A    WHIRLWIND   OF  EVENTS        '  '     '     ''  'ICfl' 

nearer  and  nearer,  sent  forward  a  sort  of  "iftipmyis<?(i  ^^pii: 
tation.  They  approached  bowing,  with  hats  in  hand  and 
wistful  looks  in  their  eyes.  Were  these  in  truth  the  mes- 
sengers of  freedom  of  whom  they  had  heard  so  much  ?  Mr. 
Baron  almost  gnashed  his  teeth  as  he  witnessed  this  action 
on  the  part  of  his  property. 

" Mars' r,"  said  the  spokesman,  "I  reck'n  you  got  good 
news  for  we  uns." 

"Yes,  good  news.  You  are  all  free."  His  words  rang 
out  so  that  they  were  heard  by  every  one.  Shouts  and  cries 
of  exultation  followed  like  an  echo,  and  ragged  hats  were 
tossed  high  in  joy. 

The  young  soldier  raised  his  hand,  with  a  warning  and 
repressive  gesture.  In  the  silence  that  ensued  he  added, 
"My  men  here  are  both  free  and  white,  yet  they  must  obey 
orders.  So  must  you.  Gro  back  to  your  quarters  and  prove 
yourselves  worthy  of  freedom  by  quiet  behavior  and  hon- 
esty. If  I  find  any  one,  black  or  white,  acting  the  part  of 
a  thief  while  I  am  in  charge  it  will  go  hard  with  him.  The 
general  will  be  here  to-morrow  and  he  will  advise  you 
further." 

His  words  found  immediate  acceptance,  the  negroes 
returning  to  the  quarters,  laughing  and  chatting  joyously, 
not  a  few  wiping  tears  of  deep  emotion  from  their  eyes. 
The  long-expected  day  had  come.  They  little  knew  what 
the  future  had  in  store  for  them,  but  'this  was  the  beginniug 
of  a  new  era  and  the  fulfilment  of  a  great  hope. 

Scoville  now  dismounted  and  gave  the  reins  to  Chunk, 
who  stood  near  with  a  droll  assumption  of  soldier- like  stiff- 
ness and  oblivion  to  all  the  well-known  faces.  Mounting 
the  steps,  cap  in  hand,  the  young  officer  approached  Mr. 
Baron,  who  was  becoming  a  little  assured  that  the  orders 
thus  far  heard  had  not  included  a  general  application  of  the 
torch. 

"Mr.  Baron,  I  presume?"  said  Scoville. 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  stiff  reply. 

"The  ladies  of  your  household,  I  suppose?" 


102  "MISS   LOU" 

Scoville  bowed  ceremoniously  to  each,*  giving  Miss  Lou 
no  other  sign  of  recognition  than  a  humorous  twinkle  in  his 
eye.  "Ladies,"  he  began,  "since  it  is  the  fortune  of  war 
that  I  must  have  command  here  for  a  brief  time,  I  hasten  to 
assure  you  that  we  shall  give  as  little  annoyance  as  possible. 
A  few  men  on  both  sides  were  wounded,  and  I  fear  that  the 
officer  commanding  your  men  was  killed.  At  least  I  saw 
him  fall.  The  night  is  warm  and  still  and  I  can  make 
a  hospital  here  on  the  piazza  with  a  little  aid  from  you. 
Please  dismiss  all  further  fears.  Unless  we  are  attacked, 
the  night  shall  pass  quietly.  Each  and  every  one  will  be 
treated  with  respect  and  courtesy.  I  must  request  of  you, 
however,  sir,"  addressing  Mr.  Baron,  "food  for  myself  and 
men  and  forage  for  our  horses. ' ' 

"I  suppose  you  will  take  them  anyway,"  growled  the 
unwilling  host. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Scoville,  giving  him  a  steady  look. 
"Do  you  expect  us  to  go  hungry?  1  shall  do  my  duty  as 
a  soldier  and  an  officer,  as  well  as  deport  myself  as  a 
gentleman." 

There  was  nothing  left  but  for  Mr.  Baron  to  give  his 
directions  to  Perkins,  or  for  the  ladies  to  make  prepara- 
tions for  the  improvised  hospital.  Miss  Lou  gratefully  rec- 
ognized that  Scoville  did  not  intend  to  compromise  her  in 
the  least  nor  reveal "  his  previous  acquaintance  unless  it 
should  become  known  through  no  fault  of  his.  She  lin- 
gered a  moment  as  Dr.  Williams  stepped  forward  and  asked, 
"May  I  be  permitted  to  return  to  my  home?" 

"I  trust  so,  certainly,  sir,  but  my  duty  requires  brief 
explanation  on  your  part  and  pledges  that  you  will  take 
no  hostile  action.     We  are  not  among  friends,  you  know." 

"I  can  very  readily  account  for  myself,  sir,"  was  the  stiff 
response.  "I  was  summoned  here  to  perform  a  wedding 
ceremony  which  vour  most  inopportune  arrival  prevented. 
I  am  a  man  ot  peace,  nox  ot  war,  yet  I  cannot  and  will  not 
give  any  pledges." 


A    WHIRLWIND    OF   EVENTS  103 

"It  is  scarcely  fair  then,  sir,  for  you  to  take  refuge  in 
your  calling,  but  I  will  waive  that  point.  I  must  warn  you, 
however,  that  we  can  give  protection  to  those  only  who  do 
not  seek  to  harm  us.  You  are  at  liberty.  Good- evening, 
sir." 

He  had  extracted  from  the  clergyman  the  fact  that  he 
had  arrived  in  time,  and  he  again  gave  the  girl  in  the  door- 
way a  mirthful  glance,  then  turned  on  his  heel  to  attend  to 
his  military  duties. 

Miss  Lou  hastened  to  her  room  with  hot  cheeks. 


104  ''MISS  LOW 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

THE   UNEXPECTED   HAPPENS 

SCOVILLE  soon  learned  that  his  opponent,  so  far  from 
being  killed  or  even  wounded,  had  escaped.  He  was 
not  much  worried  by  this  fact,  believing  that  before 
the  Confederate  officer  could  reach  his  friends  and  bring 
back  an  attacking  force,  the  Federal  column  would  be  on 
the  ground.  Indeed,  he  was  glad  that  the  family  upon 
which  he  had  quartered  himself  could  not  associate  him 
with  so  terrible  a  calamity.  The  young  girl  might  not 
wish  to  marry  her  cousin,  yet  be  sorry  if  he  were  fatally 
or  even  seriously  wounded,  while  the  rest  of  the  household 
would  be  plunged  in  the  deepest  distress.  Although  a  reso- 
lute soldier,  Scoville  was  a  kind-hearted  fellow,  and  dis- 
posed to  take  the  most  genial  views  of  life  that  circum- 
stances permitted.  There  was  a  humor  about  his  present 
situation  which  he  relished  exceedingly.  He  was  buoyant 
over  the  interrupted  wedding,  and  bent  upon  disappointing 
Mr.  Baron  in  all  his  grewsome  expectations  in  regard  to  the 
Yankees.  There  should  be  discipline,  order,  quiet,  and  an 
utter  absence  of  all  high- tragedy.  He  cautioned  his  men 
against  the  slightest  tendency  to  excess,  even  forbidding 
the  chaffing  of  the  negroes  and  noisiness.  A  steer,  a  pig, 
and  some  fowls  were  killed  for  supper,  and  the  wood  for 
cooking  it  was  taken  from  an  ample  pile  in  the  rear  of  the 
house.  Happily,  none  were  seriously  wounded,  and  being 
veterans  were  able  to  do  much  for  one  another,  while  an 
elderly  man  in  the  troop  who  had  some  rude  surgical  ex- 
perience, supplemented  their  efforts.      Miss  Lou  speedily 


THE    UNEXPECTED    HAPPENS  105 

joined  her  auQts  in  rummaging  for  old  linen  for  bandages, 
and  the  performance  of  human  duty  by  the  elderly  ladies 
dulled  the  edge  of  the  terrible  truth  that  they  were  in  the 
hands  of  the  Yankees.  True,  they  had  to  admit  to  them- 
selves that  the  young  soldier  did  not  appear  like  a  "ruth- 
less monster' '  and  that  his  conduct  thus  far  had  been  almost 
ceremoniously  polite;  yet  all  this  might  be  but  a  blind  on 
the  part  of  a  cunning  and  unscrupulous  foe. 

When  they  came  down  to  the  veranda  with  the  materials 
required,  the  unscrupulous  foe  met  them,  cap  in  hand, 
thanked  them  courteously,  and  gave  his  entire  attention  to 
the  wounded,  treating  the  men  of  both  sides  alike.  Mrs. 
Whately,  in  glad  reaction  from  overwhelming  fear  concern- 
ing her  son's  safety,  offered  her  services  in  behalf  of  the  few 
wounded  Confederates  and  they  were  readily  accepted.  Be- 
fore she  was  aware  of  it  she  found  herself  conferring  with 
the  young  officer  and  the  surgical  trooper  in  regard  to  the 
best  treatment  of  the  injuries.  Having  long  been  mistress 
of  a  plantation  and  accustomed  to  act  promptly  when  any  of 
her  slaves  were  hurt,  she  now  proved  a  valuable  auxiliary. 
When  the  soldiers  with  whom  she  sympathized  were  at- 
tended to,  her  kindness  of  heart  led  her  on  to  the  Federals, 
who  thanked  her  as  gratefully  as  if  they  were  not  depraved 
Yankees. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baron  had  retired  to  the  parlor,  where  they 
sat  in  state,  awaiting  in  gloomy  fortitude  the  darker  devel- 
opments of  what  they  deemed  the  supreme  tragedy  of  their 
lives.  Miss  Lou  was  flitting  in  and  out,  getting  lint  and 
other  articles  required  by  Mrs.  Whately.  She  found  it  no 
easy  matter  to  maintain  the  solemnity  of  aspect  which  her 
guardians  thought  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  but  was  as- 
sisted in  this  effort  by  her  genuine  pity  for  the  wounded. 
In  her  joyous  relief  at  escape  from  a  hated  union  her  heart 
was  light  indeed.  She  had,  moreover,  no  slight  sense  of 
humor,  and  was  just  bubbling  over  with  mirth  at  the  fact 
that  although  the  Yankee  monsters,  from  whom  it  was  said 
she  must  be  rescued  at  every  cost,  were  masters  of  the  situ- 


W6  *'MI88   LOW 

ation,  they  were  engaged  in  nothing  more  ruthless  than 
feeding  their  horses,  preparing  supper,  and  caring  for  the 
wounded.  The  most  delicious  thing  of  all  was  that  one  of 
the  chief  prophets  of  evil,  her  Aunt  Whately,  was  aiding 
in  the  last-named  task.  Her  exultation  was  increased  when 
she  brought  the  last  article  required  and  Scoville  said  with 
his  genial  smile,  so  well  remembered,  "I  think  I  can  assure 
you  now.  Miss  Baron,  that  all  will  do  very  well.  We  are 
deeply  indebted  to  this  lady  (bowing  to  Mrs.  Whately) 
whose  services  have  been  as  skilful  as  humane." 

Now  one  of  the  things  on  which  Mrs.  Whately  most 
prided  herself  was  the  generally  accepted  belief  that  she 
was  as  good  as  a  country  physician  in  an  emergency,  and 
she  could  not  refrain  from  a  slight  and  gracious  acknowl- 
edgment of  Scoville's  words.  As  they  drew  near  to  the 
door  she  said  hesitatingly,  "Perhaps,  sir,  I  should  make  an 
acknowledgment  of  deep  indebtedness  to  you.  I  saw  your 
sabre  raised  and  pointed  at  my  son's  throat.  Could  you  not 
have  killed  him  had  you  so  wished?" 

"Ah I  this  is  Mrs.  Whately.  Believe  me,  madam,  we 
are  not  so  bloodthirsty  as  to  wish  to  kill,  or  even  to  injure, 
except  so  far  as  the  necessities  of  war  require.  If  you  wit- 
nessed the  brief  conflict  you  must  have  observed  that  my 
effort  was  to  capture  rather  than  to  destroy  your  son's 
force. ' ' 

"We  all  could  not  help  seeing  that,"  cried  Miss  Lou 
eagerly. 

"I  could  not  help  seeing  also,  Miss  Baron,  that  you  ex- 
posed yourself  to  danger  like  a  veteran,  and  I  was  anxious 
indeed  lest  a  stray  bullet  might  harm  you.  It  was  well  you 
were  not  armed  or  we  might  have  fared  worse,"  and  there 
was  so  much  mirth  in  his  dark  eyes  that  she  turned  away  to 
hide  her  conscious  blushes. 

"Well,  sir,"  resumed  Mrs.  Whately  with  emotion,  "it  is 
not  easy  to  bless  our  enemies  in  this  cruel  war  of  aggression, 
but  I  must  express  my  gratitude  to  one  who  stayed  his  hand 
when  my  son's  life  was  within  his  power." 


THE    UNEXPECTED    HAPPENS  107 

"I  trust,  madam,  he  may  live  to  care  for  you  in  your 
declining  years,  and  to  become  a  good  loyal  citizen." 

"He  is  loyal,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Wbately  with  gentle 
dignity,  "to  the  only  authority  he  recognizes,"  and  with 
a  bow  she  retired. 

Miss  Lou  lingered  a  moment  and  said  earnestly,  "I  thank 
you.     You  are  very  considerate. ' ' 

His  face  so  lighted  up  that  it  was  almost  boyish  in  its 
expression  of  pleasure  as  he  answered  with  the  pride  and 
confidence  of  one  sure  of  sympathy,  "This  is  a  jolly  day  for 
me.  I  was  made  an  officer  this  morning,  and  now,  best  of 
all,  I  am  paying  a  little  of  my  debt  to  you." 

She  put  her  finger  on  her  lips  and  shook  her  head,  but 
the  smile  she  gave  him  over  her  shoulder  was  reassuring. 
He  promptly  started  on  a  round  among  his  men  again  to  see 
that  the  prisoners  were  properly  guarded,  and  that  all  was 
going  as  he  wished. 

"Louise,"  said  Mrs.  Baron,  as  the  girl  appeared  in  the 
parlor  door,  "it  would  be  far  more  decorous  if  you  would 
remain  here  with  your  uncle  and  myself." 

Miss  Lou  took  a  seat  in  the  darkest  corner  that  she  might 
be  less  open  to  observation  while  she  calmed  the  tumult  of 
her  feelings.  So  much  had  happened  that  she  must  catch 
her  breath  and  think  what  it  all  meant.  Mr.  Baron  began 
gloomily,  "Well,  the  dreaded  hour  which  I  hoped  and 
prayed  never  to  see  has  come.  We  are  helpless  and  in  the 
hands  of  our  enemies.  Only  God  knows  what  an  hour  will 
bring  forth — " 

"He  has  brought  deliverance,"  cried  Mrs.  Whately,  en- 
tering. "I  questioned  Aun'  Suke,  thinking  that  she  might 
have  seen  Madison  if  he  left  the  house.  She  did  see  him. 
safe  and  sound.  She  also  saw  him  get  a  horse  and  ride 
away. ' ' 

"Ah,  poor  boy!  how  different  was  his  departure  from 
what  he  had  every  reason  to  hope  and  expect!"  replied 
Mr.  Baron.  "I  should  think  your  heart  would  be  remorse- 
ful, indeed,  Louise,  when  you  picture  your  cousin  flying 


108  "MISS   LOW 

from  his  kindred  and  home,  alone  and  sad,  tortured  mean- 
while by  thoughts  of  the  fate  which  has  overtaken  us." 

"I'm  sure,  uncle,  we  are  all  sitting  quietly  in  the  parlor. 
That  does  not  seem  very  dreadful. ' ' 

"You  little  know,  young  woman,  you  little  realize  the 
cunning  depravity — " 

"There  now,  brother,"  interposed  Mrs.  Whately,  "we 
must  not  think  evil  until  we  see  more  evidence  of  it,  even 
in  Yankees.  I  admit  that  I  am  most  wonderfully  and 
agreeably  disappointed.  The  young  officer  in  whose  hands 
we  are  might  have  killed  my  son,  but  did  not.  I  must  at 
least  be  jast  to  such  a  man." 

"And  you  know  he  has  been  polite  to  us  all,  and  told 
us  to  dismiss  our  fearSj"  added  Miss  Lou  demurely. 

"It  would  almost  seem,  Louise,  that  you  welcomed  these 
invaders.  I  am  too  old  and  well  informed  not  to  know  that 
this  suave  manner  he  affects  is  designed  to  lull  us  into  a 
sense  of  false  security." 

At  this  moment  a  firm  step  was  heard  on  the  veranda, 
followed  by  a  rap  from  the  brass  knocker.  They  knew  it 
was  Scoville,  and  Mr.  Baron  rose  and  advanced  to  the  par- 
lor entrance.  He  assumed  the  solemn  aspect  of  one  who 
now  must  face  the  exactions  and  wrongs  which  he  had  pre- 
dicted, and  his  wife  tremblingly  followed,  to  perish  at  his 
side  if  need  be.  But  the  invader  barely  stepped  within  the 
hall  and  stood  uncovered  as  he  said  politely,  "Mr.  Baron,  I 
have  now  practically  made  my  dispositions  for  the  night. 
There  is  no  reason  why  your  domestic  routine  should  not  be 
resumed  as  usual.  As  I  said  before,  I  pledge  you  my  word 
you  shall  not  be  disturbed  unless  we  are  attacked.  Good- 
evening,  sir.  Good -evening,  ladies,"  and  he  bowed  and 
withdrew,  leaving  the  old  gentleman  speechless  in  the  utter 
reversal  of  all  that  he  had  declared  would  take  place.  No 
plundering,  no  insults,  no  violence.  On  the  contrary,  even 
his  beloved  routine  might  be  resumed.  He  turned  around 
to  his  wife  and  sister  almost  gasping,  "Is  this  some  deep- 
laid  plot?" 


THE    UNEXPECTED    HAPPENS  109 

*'It  oertainly  must  be,"  echoed  his  wife. 

Miss  Lou  turned  away  quickly  and  stuffed  her  hand- 
kerchief in  her  mouth  to  prevent  laughing  outright. 

Her  uncle  caught  her  in  the  act  and  was  instantly  in  a 
rage. 

"Shame  upon  you!"  he  cried.  "Enemies  without  and 
traitors  within." 

This  charge  touched  the  girl  to  the  quick,  and  she  re- 
plied with  almost  equal  anger,  "I'm  no  traitor.  Where  has 
your  loyalty  to  me  been  to-day  ?  Look  at  me,  uncle,  and 
iix  the  fact  in  your  mind,  once  for  all,  that  I  am  neither  a 
child  nor  an  idiot.  God  has  given  me  a  mind  and  a  con- 
sceince  as  truly  as  to  you,  and  I  shall  use  them.  This 
Northern  officer  says  we  are  safe.  I  believe  it  and  you 
will  know  it  in  the  morning.  Now  I  simply  insist  that  you 
and  aunt  treat  me  with  the  respect  due  to  my  years  and  sta- 
tion. I've  endured  too  much  to-day  to  be  patient  under 
anything  more.  I  meant  no  disrespect  to  you  in  laughing, 
but  I  cannot  help  being  glad  that  instead  of  all  sorts  of  hor- 
rible things  happening  we  are  treated  with  simple  and  even 
delicate  politeness." 

"Yes,  brother,"  added  Mrs.  Whately,  "as  far  as  this 
man  is  concerned,  you  must  revise  your  opinions.  There 
is  no  deep-laid  plot — nothing  but  what  is  apparent.  I  must 
also  urge  upon  you  and  sister  a  change  in  your  treatment  of 
Louise.  She  will  be  far  more  ready  to  fulfil  our  hopes  when 
led  by  affection. ' ' 

"Well,  well,  that  I  should  live  to  see  this  day!"  groaned 
Mr.  Baron.  "My  ward  virtually  says  that  she  will  do  as 
she  pleases.  The  slaves  have  been  told  that  they  are  free 
and  so  can  do  as  they  please.  Henceforth  I  suppose  I  am 
to  speak  to  my  niece  with  bated  breath,  and  be  at  the  beck 
and  call  of  every  Sambo  on  the  place." 

"You  are  not  'weltering  in  your  own  blood,'  uncle,  and 
the  'roof  is  not  blazing  over  oar  heads,'  "  replied  Miss  Lou 
quietly.  "You  have  merely  been  told  that  you  could  have 
supper  when  it  pleased  you  and  then  sleep  in  peace  and 


110  *'MISS   LOU'' 

safety.  Aunt,  1  will  thank  you  for  the  key  of  my  trunk. 
I  wish  to  put  my  things  back  in  their  places." 

Mrs.  Baron  took  it  from  her  pocket  without  a  word,  and 
Miss  Lou  went  to  her  room. 

True  to  her  nature,  Mrs.  Whately  began  to  pour  oil  on 
the  lacerated  feelings  of  her  brother  and  sister-in-law. 
"Louise  is  right,"  she  said.  "Things  are  so  much  bet- 
ter than  we  expected — than  they  might  have  been — that 
we  should  raise  our  hearts  in  thankfulness.  Just  think! 
If  this  Northern  offitser  is  what  you  fear,  why  would  he 
have  spared  my  son,  whom  he  might  have  killed  in  fair 
battle  ?  In  his  conduct  toward  the  wounded  he  showed  a 
good,  kindly  spirit.  I  can't  deny  it;  and  he  has  been  as 
polite  to  us  as  one  of  our  own  officers  could  have  been. 
Think  how  difierent  it  all  might  have  been — my  brave  son 
desperately  wounded  or  dead,  and  unscrupulous  men  sack- 
ing the  house!  I  need  not  refer  to  darker  fears.  I  must 
say  that  I  feel  like  meeting  courtesy  with  courtesy.  Since 
this  Yankee  behaves  like  a  generous  foe  I  would  like  to 
prove  that  Southern  rebels  and  slave-drivers,  as  we  are 
called,  can  equal  him  in  all  the  amenities  of  life  which  the 
situation  permits. ' ' 

"Oh,  sister!"  cried  Mrs.  Baron,  "even  a  cup  of  tea 
would  choke  me  if  I  drank  it  in  his  presence." 

But  Mr.  Baron  had  lighted  his  pipe,  and  reason  and 
Southern  pride  were  asserting  themselves  under  its  sooth- 
ing influence.  At  last  he  said,  "Well,  let  us  have  supper 
anyway.     It  is  already  after  the  hour." 

"Supper  has  been  ready  this  longtime,  as  you  know," 
replied  his  wife,  "only  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  guest  as 
has  been  suggested." 

"Of  course,  sister,  I  only  said  what  I  did  as  a  sugges- 
tion," Mrs.  Whately  answered  with  dignity.  "You  are  in 
your  own  home.  I  merely  felt  reluctant  that  this  Yankee 
should  have  a  chance  to  say  that  we  were  so  rude  and  un- 
civilized that  we  couldn't  appreciate  good  treatment  when 
we  received  it.     There's  no  harm  in  gaining  his  goodwill, 


THE    UNEXPECTED    HAPPENS  111 

either,  for  lie  said  that  his  general,  with  the  main  force, 
would  be  here  to-morrow." 

"Mrs.  Baron,"  said  her  husband  in  strong  irritation, 
"don't  you  see  there  is  nothing  left  for  us  to  do?  No 
matter  how  things  turn  out,  the  presence  of  these  Yankees 
involves  what  is  intensely  disagreeable.  If  sister  is  right 
in  regard  to  this  man — and  I  suppose  I  must  admit  she  is 
till  I  know  him  better — he  has  made  it  necessary  for  our 
own  self-respect  to  treat  him  with  courtesy.  Our  pride  will 
not  permit  us  to  accept  this  from  him  and  make  no  return. 
It  may  be  Yankee  cunning  which  led  him  to  foresee  this, 
for  I  suppose  it  is  pleasing  to  many  of  the  tribe  to  gain 
their  ends  hj  finesse.  Probably  if  this  doesn't  secure  them, 
he  will  try  harsher  methods.  Anyway,  as  long  as  he  plays 
at  the  game  of  courtesy,  we,  as  sister  says,  should  teach  him 
that  we  know  what  the  word  means.  The  mischief  is  that 
you  never  can  know  just  what  a  Yankee  is  scheming  for  or 
aiming  at." 

"Well,  brother,  supposing  your  words  are  true,  as  I  do 
not  think  they  are  in  this  instance,  it  is  due  to  our  dignity 
that  we  act  like  sincere  people  who  are  above  even  suspect- 
ing unworthy  motives.  We  do  not  compromise  ourselves 
in  the  matter.  We  only  meet  courtesy  with  courtesy,  like 
well-bred  people." 

"Well,  so  be  it  then.  In  fact,  I  would  like  to  ask  this 
man  what  he  and  those  he  represents  can  hope  to  gain  by 
invasion  equalled  only  by  that  of  the  Goths  and  Vandals." 


112  ''MISS    LOW 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    THREAT 

THE  moment  Chunk  believed  that  Scoville  could  dis- 
pense with  his  services  for  a  time  he  made  his  way 
promptly  to  the  back  veranda  and  gave  a  low,  pecul- 
iar whistle  which  Zany  recognized.  He  had  ceased  in  her 
estimation  to  be  merely  a  subject  for  infinite  jest.  Though 
not  very  advanced  in  the  scale  of  civilization,  she  was  in- 
fluenced by  qualities  which  appealed  to  her  mind,  and  pos- 
sessed many  traits  common  to  her  sex.  His  shrewdness 
and  courage  were  making  good  his  lack  of  inches.  Above 
all,  he  was  in  favor  with  the  "head  Linkum  man,"  and 
Zany  belonged  to  that  class  ever  ready  to  greet  the  rising 
sun.  While  all  this  was  true,  she  could  not  be  herself  and 
abandon  her  coquettish  impulses  and  disposition  to  tease. 
She  came  slowly  from  the  dining-room  and  looked  over 
Chunk's  head  as  if  she  could  not  see  him.  Bent  on  retalia^ 
tion,  he  stepped  behind  her,  lifted  her  in  his  powerful  arms 
and  carried  her  on  a  full  run  to  some  screening  shrubbery, 
the  irate  captive  cutting  his  ear  soundly  all  the  way.  Settmg 
her  down,  he  remarked  quietly,  "Now  I  reckon  you  kin  fin' 
me." 

"Yo'  wool  git  gray  'fo'  you  fin'  me  agin,"  she  replied, 
making  a  feint  of  starting  for  the  house. 

"Berry  well.  Miss  Zany.  I  see  you  doan  want  ter  be  a 
free  gyurl.    I'se  tell  Marse  Scoville  you  no  'count  niggah." 

"Wat  you  want  anyhow,  imperdence  ?" 

"I  wants  sup'n  ter  eat.     Does  you  'spects  I  kin  ride  all 


A    THREAT  113 

night  en  all  day  ter  brung  you  freedom,  en  den  not  eben 
git  a  good  word  ?  You  ain'  fit  fer  freedom.  I'se  tell  some 
nachel-bawn  fool  ter  gib  you  a  yaller  rib'on  en  den  dere  be 
two  ob  you." 

"La  now,  Chunk,"  she  replied,  coming  back,  "ef  I  wuz 
lookin'  fer  a  fool  I  des  stay  right  yere.  Ef  you  git  a  pa'r 
ob  steps  en  look  in  my  face  you'd  see  I'se  bettah  fren'  ter 
you  ner  you  ter  me.  You  stay  yere  en  I  brings  you  w'at 
you  tink  a  heap  on  mor'n  me,"  and  now  she  darted  away 
with  intentions  satisfactory  to  her  strategic  admirer. 

Chunk  grinned  and  soliloquized,  "Eeck'n  I  kin  fetch 
dat  gyurl  roun'  wid  all  her  contrariations.  I  des  likes  her 
skittishness,  but  I  ain'  tellin'  her  so,  kaze  I  gwine  ter  hab 
my  ban's  full  as  'tis." 

Zany  soon  returned  with  a  plate  well  heaped,  for  at  this 
time  her  argus-eyed  mistress  was  sitting  in  the  parlor,  await- 
ing whatever  fate  the  ruthless  Yankees  might  impose.  Chunk 
sat  Turk-fashion  on  the  ground  and  fell  to  as  if  famished, 
meanwhile  listening  eagerly  to  the  girl's  account  of  what 
had  happened  during  his  absence. 

"Hi!"  said  Zany  disdainfully,  "you'd  mek  lub  ter  Aun' 
Suke  ef  she  fed  you." 

"I  kin  mek  mo'n  lub,"  Chunk  answered,  nodding  at  her 
portentously;  "I  kin  mek  mischief." 

"Reck'n  you  do  dat  anyhow." 

"See  yere,  Zany,  does  you  tink  Marse  Scoville  a  fool?" 

"Obco'se  not." 

"Well,  he  doan  tink  me  a  fool.  Whose  'pinion's  wuth 
de  mos'  ?  Who  took  keer  on  'im?  Who  got  'im  ofi  safe 
right  un'er  de  nose  ob  one  ob  Mad  Whately's  sogers? 
Who  brung  'im  back  des  in  time  ter  stop  dat  ar  mar' age 
CQ  gib  we  uns  freedom  ?  You  mighty  peart,  but  you  got 
a  heap  ter  lam  'fo'  you  cut  yo'  eye-tooths." 

"Some  folks  gits  dere  eye-tooths  en  doan  git  nuthin' 
wid  'em,"  Zany  remarked  nonchalantly.  "I'se  'mit  dough 
dat  you  comin'  on,  Chunk.  W'en  you  gits  growed  up 
you'se  be  right  smart." 


114  ''MISS    LOW 

"I  doan  min'  de  foolishness  ob  yo'  talk,  Zan}^,"  Chunk 
replied  coolly,  between  his  huge  mouthfuls.  ''Dat's  in  you, 
en  you  kyant  he'p  hit  any  mo'n  a  crow  cawin'.  I'se  alius 
mek  'lowance  fer  dat.  I  des  'proves  dis  'casion  ter  'zort 
you  ter  be  keerful  w'at  you  does.  Dere's  gwine  ter  be 
mighty  ticklish  times — sorter  flash-bang  times,  yer  know. 
I'se  a  free  man — des  ez  free  as  air,  en  I'se  hired  mysef  ter 
Marse  Scoville  ter  wait  on  'im.  I'se  growed  up  anufi  ter 
know  he  kin  tek  de  shine  off  eny  man  I  eber  see,  or  you 
neider.  He  yo'  boss  now  well  ez  mine.  I'se  gib  'im  a  good 
report  on  you  ef  I  kin.  I'se  feard,  howsomeber,  dat  he  say 
you  outgrowed  yo'  sense." 

''Dar  now,  Chunk,  you  puttin'  on  mo'  airs  dan  Marse 
Scoville  hissef.  He  des  ez  perlite  ter  marster  en  ole  miss 
ez  ef  he  come  ter  pay  his  'spects  ter  dem  en  he  look  at  Miss 
Lou  ez  a  cat  do  at  cream. ' ' 

''Hi!  dat  so?  No  won'er  he  want  ter  git  ahaid  ob  de 
parson  en  dat  weddin'  business." 

"Oh,  yo'  orful  growed  up  en  ain'  fin'  dat  out?" 

"I  'spicioned  it.  Well,  de  ting  fer  you'n  me  is  ter  he'p 
'im." 

"La,  now,"  replied  Zany,  proposing  to  give  a  broad 
hint  at  the  same  time,  "I  ain'  gwine  ter  he'p  no  man  in 
sech  doin's.     De  cream  neber  goes  ter  de  cat." 

"Yere,  tek  de  plate.  Zany,  wid  my  tanks,"  said  Chunk, 
rising.  "Sech  cream  ez  you  gits  orful  sour  ef  de  cat  doan 
fin'  it  sud'n.  I'se  took  my  'zert  now,"  and  he  caught  her 
up  again  and  kissed  her  on  the  way  back  to  the  veranda. 

This  time  his  performances  were  seen  by  Aun'  Suke, 
who  stood  in  the  kitchen  door.  She  snatched  up  a  pail  of 
water,  exclaiming,  "I  cool  you  uns  off,  I  sut'ny  will.  Sech 
goin's  on!"  But  they  were  too  quick  for  her.  Zany  pre- 
tended to  be  as  irate  as  she  was  secretly  pleased,  while 
Chunk  caused  the  old  woman  to  boil  over  with  rage  by 
declaring,  "Aun'  Suke,  I  sen'  a  soger  yere  ter  hab  you 
'rested  for  'zorderly  conduct." 

"Ef  you  eber  comes  ter  dis  kitchen  agin  I'se  emty  de  pot 


A    THREAT  115 

ob  bilin'  water  on  you,"  cried  Aun'  Suke,  retreating  to  her 
domain. 

"Ef  you  does,  you  get  yosef  ober  haid  en  years  in  hot 
water,"  Chunk  answered  with  exasperating  sa7ig  froid. 
"You  niggahs  gwine  ter  fin'  out  who's  who  on  dis  planta- 
shun  'fo'  yo'  nex'  birthday." 

Zany's  only  response  was  a  grimace,  and  he  next  carried 
his  exaggerated  sense  of  importance  to  his  granny's  cabin. 
He  had  seen  Aun'  Jin  key  and  spoken  a  few  reassuring 
words  as  he  passed  with  Scoville's  attacking  force.  Since 
that  time  she  had  done  a  power  of  "projeckin'  "  over  her 
corncob  pipe,  but  events  were  now  hurrying  toward  conclu- 
sions beyond  her  ken.  It  has  already  been  observed  that 
Aun'  Jinkey  was.  a  neutral  power.  As  yet,  the  weight  of 
her  decision  had  been  cast  neither  for  the  North  nor  the 
South,  while  the  question  of  freedom  remained  to  be  smoked 
over  indefinitely.  There  was  no  indecision  in  her  mind, 
however,  in  regard  to  her  young  mistress,  and  greater  even 
than  her  fears  when  she  heard  the  sounds  of  conflict  was 
her  solicitude  over  the  possibility  of  a  forced  marriage. 
Since  she  was  under  the  impression  that  her  cabin  might 
soon  become  again  the  refuge  of  one  or  the  other  of  the 
contending  powers,  possibly  of  Miss  Lou  herself,  she  left 
the  door  ajar  and  was  on  the  alert. 

"Hi  dar!  granny,"  cried  Chunky  the  first  to  appear, 
"dat's  right.  Now  you  kin  smoke  in  peace,  fer  you  own 
yosef.     Nobody  come  bossin'  you  yere  any  mo'." 

"Doan  you  git  so  bumptious  all  ter  oncet,"  said  Aun' 
Jinkey.  "Does  you  'spect  de  hull  top's  gwine  ter  be  tu'ned 
right  ober  down'erds  in  er  day?  But  dar!  you  ain'  no 
'sper'ience.  Yo'  stomack  emty  en  you'  haid  light.  Draw 
up  now  en  tell  me  de  news.  Tell  me  sud'n  'bout  Miss  Lou. 
Did  dey  git  her  mar'd  ?" 

"Yah!  yah!  Marse  Scoville's  so'd  ud  cut  de  knot  ef  dey 
had." 

"Dat's  des  ez  much  ez  you  knows.  All  de  so'ds  eber 
flash  kyant  cut  dat  ar  knot  'less  dey  kill  Marse  Whately." 


116  '*M1SS   LOU" 

"Dat  'min's  me  ob  someting  ter'ble  quar.  Marse  Sco- 
ville  had  he  so'd  pintin'  right  agin  Mad  Whately's  neck 
en  yit  he  ain'  jab  'im.  Dat  same  Mad  Whately  gwine  ter 
mek  a  heap  ob  trouble  fer  he  got  clean  off. " 

*' Marse  Scoville  know  dat  ef  he  kill  a  man  right  straight 
wid  he  own  han'  he  spook  come  and  mek  a  heap  mo' 
trouble." 

''Hi!  didn't  tinko'  dat." 

"Bettah  tink  right  smart,  Chunk.  You'se  gittin'  top- 
heaby  ef  you  is  sho't.     Now  tell  me  all  'bout  de  mar 'age." 

"Dey  ain'  no  mar'age.  Zany  tole  me  how  Miss  Lou  say 
she  ain'  neber  'sent,  en  den  'fo'  dey  could  say  dere  lingo 
ober  her  en  mar'y  her  des  ez  dey  would  a  bale  ob  cotton, 
up  rides  Marse  Scoville  en  put  his  so'd  troo  ebryting.  He 
tells  us  we  all  free  en — " 

"En  eat  yo'  supper.  I  ain'  done  projeckin'  'bout  dis 
freedom  business.  How  we  uns  gwine  ter  be  free  'less 
Marse  Sooville  stay  yere  en  kep  us  free?" 

"Zany  guv  me  my  supper  en — " 

"Dar  now,  I  ain'  no  mo'  'count.  Zany  gobble  you 
aready.     I  des  stick  ter  my  chimb ly  corner." 

"Howdy,  Aunt  Jinkey,"  cried  Scoville,  coming  in 
briskly.     "Well,  you  see  I'm  back  again  as  I  promised.'* 

"You  welcome,  a  hun'erd  times  welcome,  kaze  you  kep 
my  young  mistis  fum  bein'  mar'ed  right  slap  'gin  her  own 
feelin's  ter  her  cousin." 

"Pshaw !  Aunt  Jinkey.  No  one  can  marry  a  girl  against 
lier  will  in  this  country. ' ' 

"Dat  des  de  question  Miss  Lou  en  me  projeckin'  'bout 
dis  berry  mawnin'.  She  gyardeens  went  straight  along  ez 
ef  dey  had  de  po'r,  dey  .sut'ny  did.  Dat's  w'at  so  upset 
Miss  Lou  en  me.  De  po'r  ob  gyardeens  is  sump'n  I  kyant 
simoke  out  straight,  en  I  des  lak  ter  know  how  much  dey 
kin  do.  Ole  mars'r  al'ays  manage  her  prop'ty  en  we  wuz 
fiustrated  w'en  we  see  'im  en  Mad  Whately  en  he  moder 
en  ole  miss  en  all  gittin'  ready  fer  de  weddin'  des  ez  ef  hit 
was  comin'  like  sun-up  sho." 


A    THREAT  117 

*'lt  was  a  sbame, "  cried  Scoville  angrily.  "They  were 
seeking  to  drive  her  into  submission  by  strong,  steady 
pressure,  but  if  she  insisted  on  her  right — " 

"Dat  des  w'at  she  did,  Marse  Scoville.  She  say  she 
neber  'sent,  neber,^''  Chunk  interrupted. 

"Then  the  whole  Southern  Confederacy  could  not  have 
married  her  and  she  ought  to  know  it." 

"Well,  you  mus'  be  'siderate,  Marse  Scoville.  Miss  Lou 
know  a  heap  'bout  some  tings  en  she  des  a  chile  'bout  oder 
tings.  Ole  mars'r  en  misus  al'ays  try  ter  mek  her  tink  dat 
only  w'at  dey  say  is  right  en  nuthin'  else,  en  dey  al'ays 
'low  ter  her  dat  she  gwine  ter  mar'y  her  cousin  some  day, 
en  she  al'ays  'low  ter  me  she  doan  wanter." 

"Poor  child !  she  does  need  a  friend  in  very  truth.  What 
kind  of  a  man  is  this  Mad  Whately  anyway,  that  he  could 
think  of  taking  part  in  such  a  wrong?" 

"He  de  same  kin'  ob  man  dat  he  wuz  a  boy,"  Chunk 
answered.  "Den  he  kick  en  howl  till  he  git  w'at  he  want. 
'Scuse  me,  Marse  Scoville,  but  I  kyant  hep  tinkin'  you  mek 
big  'stake  dat  you  didn't  jab  'im  w'en  you  hab  de  chance." 

"Chunk,"  was  the  grave  answer,  "if  you  are  going  to 
wait  on  me  you  must  learn  my  ways.  I'd  no  more  kill  a 
man  when  it  was  not  essential  than  I  would  kill  you  this 
minute.     Soldiers  are  not  butchers." 

"Granny  sez  how  you  wuz  feared  on  his  spook" — 

"Bah!  you  expect  to  be  free,  yet  remain  slaves  to  such 
fears?  My  horse  knows  better.  Come,  Aunt  Jinkey,  I'd 
rather  you  would  give  me  some  supper  than  your  views 
on  spooks." 

"Lef tenant,"  said  Perkins,  the  overseer,  from  the  door, 
"Mr.  Baron  pr'sents  his  compliments  en^gives  you  a  invite 
to  supper." 

Scoville  thought  a  moment,  then  answered,  "Present 
mine  in  return,  and  say  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  ac- 
cept." 

"Bress  de  Lawd!  you  gwine  ter  de  big  house.  Not  dat 
I  'grudges  cookin'  fer  you  w'eneber  you  come,  but  I  des 


118  ''MISS   LOV 

wants  you  ter  took  a  'tunerty  ter  advise  dat  po'  chile  'bout 
slie  rights  en  de  mar' age  question." 

After  assuring  himself  that  the  overseer  was  out  of  ear- 
shot, Scoville  said  almost  sternly,  "  Aunt  Jinkey,  you  and 
Chunk  must  not  say  one  word  of  my  ever  having  been  here 
before.  It  might  make  your  young  mistress  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  and  I  should  be  sorry  indeed  if  I  ever  caused  her 
any  trouble  whatever. ' '  Then  as  he  made  his  way  to  the 
mansion  he  smilingly  soliloquized,  "I  don't  know  of  any 
other  question  concerning  which  I  would  rather  give  her 
advice,  nor  would  it  be  wholly  disinterested,  I  fear,  if  I  had 
a  chance.  At  this  time  to-morrow,"  he  sighingly  concluded, 
' '  I  may  be  miles  away  or  dead.  Poor  unsophisticated  child ! 
I  never  was  touched  so  close  before  as  now  by  her  need  of 
a  friend  who  cares  more  for  her  than  his  own  schemes." 

Chunk  following  at  a  respectful  distance  became  aware 
that  the  overseer  was  glowering  at  him.  "Bettah  'lebe  yo* 
min',  Marse  Perkins,"  he  remarked  condescendingly. 

"You  infernal,  horse-stealing  nigger  I"  was  the  low  re- 
sponse. 

"Hi!  Marse  Perkins,  you  kin  growl,  but  you  muzzled 
all  de  same. ' ' 

*'The  muzzle  may  be  off  before  many  mo*  sunsets,  en 
then  you'll  find  my  teeth  in  your  throat,"  said  the  man 
under  his  breath,  and  his  look  was  so  dark  and  vindictive 
that  even  in  his  elation  Chunk  became  uneasy. 


MISS   LOU   EMANCIPATED  119 


CHAPTER  XV 

MISS   LOU    EMANCIPATED 

NATURE  had  endowed  Scoville  with  a  quick,  active 
mind,  and  circumstances  had  developed  its  power 
and  capacity  to  a  degree  scarcely  warranted  by  Lis 
age.  Orphaned  early  in  life,  compelled  to  hold  his  own 
among  comparative  strangers  since  childhood,  he  had 
gained  a  worldly  wisdom  and  self-reliance  which  he  could 
not  have  acquired  in  a  sheltered  home.  He  had  learned  to 
look  at  facts  and  people  squarely,  to  estimate  values  and 
character  promptly,  and  then  to  decide  upon  his  own  action 
unhesitatingly.  Although  never  regarded  as  the  model  good 
boy  at  the  boarding-schools  wherein  he  had  spent  most  of 
his  life,  he  had  been  a  general  favorite  with  both  teachers 
and  scholars.  A  certain  frankness  in  mischief  and  buoyancy 
of  spirit  had  carried  him  through  all  difficulties,  while  his 
apt  mind  and  retentive  memory  always  kept  him  near  to 
the  head  of  his  classes.  The  quality  of  alertness  was  one 
of  his  characteristics.  In  schools  and  at  the  university  he 
quickly  mastered  their  small  politics  and  prevailing  tenden- 
cies, and  he  often  amused  his  fellow-pupils  with  free-handed 
yet  fairly  truthful  sketches  of  their  instructors.  As  the 
country  passed  into  deeper  and  stronger  excitement  over 
the  prospect  of  secession  and  its  consequences,  he  was 
among  the  first  to  catch  the  military  spirit  and  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  formation  of  a  little  company  among  the 
students.  It  was  not  his  disposition  to  be  excited  merely 
because  others  were.  Certain  qualities  of  mind  led  him  to 
look  beneath  the  surface  for  the  causes  of  national  commo- 


120  *'MISS   LOW 

tion.  He  read  carefully  the  utterances  of  leaders,  North 
and  South,  and  to  some  extent  traced  back  their  views  and 
animating  spirit  to  historical  sources. 

In  the  year  of  '63  he  found  to  his  joy  that  he  had  at- 
tained such  physical  proportions  as  would  secure  his  accep- 
tance in  a  cavalry  regiment  forming  in  his  vicinity.  His 
uncle,  who  was  also  guardian,  for  reasons  already  known, 
made  slight  opposition,  and  he  at  once  donned  the  blue 
with  its  blufi  trimmings.  In  camp  and  field  he  quickly 
learned  the  routine  of  duty,  and  then  his  daring,  active 
temperament  led  him  gradually  into  the  scouting  service. 
Now,  although  so  young,  he  was  a  veteran  in  experience, 
frank  to  friends,  but  secretive  and  ready  to  deceive  the 
very  elect  among  his  enemies.  Few  could  take  more  risks 
than  he,  yet  he  had  not  a  particle  of  Mad  Whately's  reck- 
lessness. Courage,  but  rarely  impulse,  controlled  his  ac- 
tion. As  we  have  seen,  he  could  instantly  stay  his  hand  the 
second  a  deadly  enemy,  seeking  his  life  in  personal  en- 
counter, was  disarmed. 

The  prospect  of  talking  with  such  a  host  as  Mr.  Baron 
pleased  him  immensely.  He  scarcely  knew  to  whom  he  was 
indebted  for  the  courtesy,  but  rightly  surmised  that  it  was 
Mrs.  Whately,  since  she,  with  good  reason,  felt  under  obli- 
gations to  him.  Even  more  than  an  adventurous  scouting 
expedition  he  relished  a  situation  full  of  humor,  and  such 
his  presence  at  Mr.  Baron's  supper-table  promised  to  be. 
He  knew  his  entertainment  would  be  gall  and  wormwood 
to  the  old  Bourbon  and  his  wife,  and  that  the  courtesy  had 
been  wrung  from  them  by  his  own  forbearance.  It  might 
be  his  only  opportunity  to  see  Miss  Lou  and  suggest  the 
liberty  he  had  brought  to  her  as  well  as  to  the  slaves. 

Mrs.  Whately  met  him  on  the  veranda  and  said  politely, 
"Lieutenant  Scoville,  you  have  proved  yourself  to  be  a 
generous  and  forbearing  enemy.  If  you  feel  that  you  can 
meet  frank  enemies  who  wish  to  return  courtesy  with  cour- 
tesy, we  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  take  supper  with  us. ' ' 

''Yes,"  added  Mr.  Baron,  "my  sister  has  convinced  me, 


MISS    LOU   EMANCIPATED  121 

somewhat  against  my  will,  I  must  in  honesty  admit,  that 
such  hospitality  as  we  can  offer  under  the  circumstances 
is  your  due." 

*'I  appreciate  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Baron,*'  was  the 
grave  reply,  "and  honor  the  Southern  trait  which  is  so 
strong  that  even  I  can  receive  the  benefit  of  it.  Your 
courtesy,  madam,  will  put  me  at  ease." 

Miss  Lou,  thinking  it  possible  that  she  might  see  the 
Northern  officer  again,  had  taken  her  own  way  of  convinc- 
ing him  that  he  was  still  within  the  bounds  of  civilization, 
for  she  made  a  toilet  more  careful  than  the  one  with  which 
she  had  deigned  to  grace  the  appointed  day  of  her  wedding. 
She  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes  when,  entering  the  sup- 
per room  a  little  late,  she  saw  Scoville  already  seated  at  the 
table.  He  instantly  rose  and  made  her  a  ceremonious  bow, 
thus  again  indicating  that  their  past  relations  should  be 
completely  ignored  in  the  presence  of  others.  She  therefore 
gravely  returned  his  salutation  and  took  her  place  without  a 
word,  but  her  high  color  did  not  suggest  indifference  to  the 
situation.  Mr.  Baron  went  through  the  formal  "grace"  as 
usual  and  then  said,  "Ahem!  you  will  admit,  sir,  that  it  is 
a  little  embarrassing  to  know  just  how  to  entertain  one  with 
whom  we  have  some  slight  difference  of  opinion." 

"Perhaps  such  embarrassment  will  be  removed  if  we 
all  speak  our  minds  freely,"  replied  Scoville,  pleasantly. 
"Pardon  the  suggestion,  but  the  occasion  appears  to  me 
favorable  to  a  frank  and  interesting  exchange  of  views.  'If 
my  way  of  thinking  were  wholly  in  accord  with  yours  my 
words  could  be  little  better  than  echoes.  I  should  be  glad 
to  feel  that  my  presence  was  no  restraint  whatever." 

"I'm  inclined  to  think  you  are  right,  sir,"  added  Mrs. 
Whately.  "It  would  be  mere  affectation  on  our  part  to  dis- 
guise our  thoughts  and  feelings.  With  neighbors,  and  even 
with  friends,  we  are  often  compelled  to  do  this,  but  I  scarcely 
see  why  we  should  do  so  with  an  open  enemy." 

"And  such  I  trust  you  will  find  me,  madam,   an  open 

enemy  in  the  better  sense  of  the  adjective.    As  far  as  I  can, 
"^  Bob— IX— F 


122  ''MISS   LOU" 

I  will  answer  questions  if  you  wish  to  ask  aay.  I  will  tell 
you  honestly  all  the  harm  I  meditate  and  outline  clearly 
the  extent  of  my  hostility,  if  you  will  do  the  same,"  and 
he  smiled  so  genially  that  she  half  smiled  also  as  she 
answered : 

"To  hear  you,  sir,  one  would  scarcely  imagine  you  to  be 
an  enemy  at  all.     But  then  we  know  better." 

"Yes,  sir,  pardon  me,  we  do,"  said  Mr.  Baron,  a  little 
stiffly.  "For  one,  I  would  like  your  honest  statement  of 
just  what  harm  you  and  your  command  meditate.  I  am 
one  who  would  rather  face  and  prepare  for  whatever  I  shall 
be  compelled  to  meet." 

"I  ihink,  sir,  you  have  already  met  and  faced  the  direst 
event  of  the  evening — my  presence  at  your  hospitable 
board.  Even  this  hardship  is  due  to  your  courtesy,  not 
to  my  compulsion." 

Miss  Lou  bowed  low  over  her  plate  at  this  speech. 

"But  how  about  the  long  hours  of  the  night,  sir?  Have 
you  such  control  over  your  men — " 

"Yes,  sir!"  interrupted  Scoville  with  dignity.  "The 
men  I  have  with  me  are  soldiers,  not  camp-followers.  They 
would  no  more  harm  you  or  anything  you  possess,  without 
orders,  than  1  would." 

"Without  orders — a  clause  of  large  latitude.  As  far  as 
words  go  you  have  already  robbed  me  of  the  greater  part 
of  my  possessions.  You  have  told  my  slaves  that  they  are 
free." 

"Not  upon  my  own  responsibility,  sir,  although  with 
hearty  goodwill.  In  my  humble  station  I  am  far  more 
often  called  upon  to  obey  orders  than  to  give  them.  You 
are  aware  of  President  Lincoln's  proclamation?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  of  the  Pope's  bull  against  the  comet." 

Scoville  laughed  so  genially  as  partially  to  disarm  his 
reply  of  its  sting.  "In  this  instance,  sir,  our  armies  are 
rather  gaining  on  the  comet." 

"But  what  can  you  and  your  armies  hope  to  accom- 
plish?"   Mrs.   Whately   asked.      "If  you  should  destroy 


MISS    LOU    EMANCIPATED  123 

every  Southern  man,  the  women  would  remain  unsub- 
dued." 

"Now,  madam,  you  have  me  at  disadvantage.  I  do  not 
know  what  we  would  or  could  do  if  confronted  only  by  im- 
placable Southern  women." 

"Do  not  imagine  that  I  am  jesting.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  strange  it  seems  that  a  man  of  your  appearance  and 
evident  character  should  be  among  our  cruel  enemies." 

"And  yet,  Mrs.  Whately,  you  cannot  dispute  the  fact. 
Pardon  me  for  saying  it,  but  I  think  that  is  just  where  the 
South  is  in  such  serious  error.  It  shuts  its  eyes  to  so  many 
simple  facts — a  course  which  experience  proves  is  never 
wise.  I  may  declare,  and  even  believe,  that  there  is  no 
solid  wall  before  me,  yet  if  I  go  headlong  against  it,  I  am 
bruised  all  the  same.  Positive  beliefs  do  not  create  truths. 
I  fancy  that  a  few  hours  since  you  were  absolutely  sure  that 
this  courtesy  of  which  I  am  the  grateful  recipient  could  not 
be,  yet  you  were  mistaken." 

"Has  not  the  sad  experience  of  many  others  inspired  our 
fears  ?  Neither  has  the  end  come  with  us  yet.  You  said 
that  the  main  Northern  force  would  come  this  way  to- 
morrow. We  do  not  fear  you  and  those  whom  you  con- 
trol, but  how  about  those  who  are  to  come  ?" 

"I  can  speak  only  for  the  class  to  which  I  belong — the 
genuine  soldiers  who  are  animated  by  as  single  and  unfal- 
tering a  spirit  as  the  best  in  your  armies.  If  a  Confederate 
column  were  going  through  the  North  you  could  not  answer 
for  the  conduct  of  every  lawless,  depraved  man  in  such  a 
force.  Still,  I  admit  with  you  that  war  is  essentially  cruel, 
and  that  the  aim  ever  must  be  to  inflict  as  much  injury  as 
possible  on  one's  adversaries." 

"But  how  can  you  take  part  in  such  a  war?" 
Mrs.  Whately  asked.  "All  we  asked  was  to  be  let 
alone." 

"Yes,  sir,"  added  Mr.  Baron,  "how  can  you  justify 
these  ruthless  invasions,  this  breaking  up  of  our  domestic 
institutions,  this  despoiling  of  our  property  and  rights  by 


124  ''MISS   LOW 

force?"  and  there  was  a  tremor  of  suppressed  excitement 
in  his  voice. 

Scoville  glanced  at  Miss  Lou  to  see  how  far  she  sympa- 
thized with  her  kindred.  He  observed  that  her  face  was 
somewhat  stern  in  its  expression,  yet  full  of  intelligent  in- 
terest. It  was  not  the  index  of  mere  prejudice  and  hate. 
"Yes,"  he  thought,  "she  is  capable  of  giving  me  a  fair 
hearing;  the  others  are  not.  Mr.  Baron,"  he  said,  "your 
views  are  natural,  perhaps,  if  not  just.  I  know  it  is  asking 
much  of  human  nature  when  you  are  suffering  and  must 
suffer  so  much,  to  form  what  will  become  the  historical 
judgment  on  the  questions  at  issue.  The  law  under  which 
the  North  is  fighting  is  the  supreme  one — that  of  self- 
preservation.  Even  if  we  had  let  you  alone — permitted 
you  to  separate  and  become  independent  without  a  blow, 
war  would  have  come  soon.  You  would  not  and  could  not 
have  let  us  alone.  Consider  but  one  point:  your  slaves 
would  merely  have  to  pass  the  long  boundary  line  stretch- 
ing nearly  across  the  continent,  in  order  to  be  on  free  soil. 
You  could  compel  their  return  only  by  conquering  and  al- 
most annihilating  the  North.  You  will  say  that  we  should 
think  as  you  do  on  the  subject,  and  I  must  answer  that  it  is 
every  man  and  woman's  right  to  think  according  to  individ- 
ual conscience,  according  to  the  light  within.  Deny  this 
right,  and  you  put  no  bounds  to  human  slavery.  Pardon 
me,  but  looking  in  your  eyes  and  those  of  these  ladies,  I  can 
see  that  I  should  become  a  slave  instantly  if  you  had  your 
way.  Unconsciously  and  inevitably  you  would  make  me 
one,  for  it  is  your  strongest  impulse  to  make  me  agree  with 
you,  to  see  things  exactly  as  you  do.  The  fact  that  you 
sincerely  believe  you  are  right  would  make  no  difference 
if  I  just  as  sincerely  believed  you  were  wrong.  If  I  could 
not  think  and  act  for  myself  I  should  be  a  slave.  You 
might  say,  'We  know  we  are  right,  that  what  we  believe 
has  the  Divine  sanction.'  That  is  what  the  tormentors  of 
the  Inquisition  said  and  believed;  that  is  what  my  Puritan 
and  persecuting  forefathers  said  and  believed;  what  does 


MISS   LOU   EMANCIPATED  125 

history  say  now?  The  world  is  growing  wise  enough  to 
understand  that  God  has  no  slaves.  He  endows  men  and 
women  with  a  conscience.  The  supreme  obligation  is  to  be 
true  to  this.  When  any  one  who  has  passed  the  bounds  of 
childhood  says  to  us,  'I  don't  think  this  is  right,'  we  take 
an  awful  responsibility,  we  probably  are  guilty  of  usurpa- 
tion, if  we  substitute  our  will  for  his.  In  our  sincerity  we 
may  argue,  reason  and  entreat,  but  in  the  presence  of  an- 
other's conscience  unconvinced  and  utterly  opposed  to  us, 
where  is  human  slavery  to  end  if  one  man,  or  a  vast  num- 
ber of  men,  have  the  power  to  say,  'You  shall'  ?" 

Scoville  had  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  Mr.  Baron,  and  saw 
that  he  was  almost  writhing  under  the  expression  of  views 
so  repugnant  to  him — views  which  proved  his  whole  scheme 
of  life  and  action  to  be  wrong.  Now  the  young  man  turned 
his  glance  suddenly  on  Miss  Lou,  and  in  her  high  color, 
parted  lips  and  kindled  eyes,  saw  abundant  proof  that  she, 
as  he  had  wished,  was  taking  to  herself  the  deep  personal 
application  of  his  words.  Her  guardians  and  Mrs.  Whately 
observed  this  truth  also,  and  now  bitterly  regretted  that 
they  had  invited  the  Union  officer.  It  seemed  to  them  a 
sort  of  malign  fate  that  he  had  been  led,  unconsciously  as 
they  supposed,  to  pronounce  in  the  presence  of  the  girl  such 
vigorous  condemnation  of  their  action.  Had  they  not  that 
very  day  sought  to  override  the  will,  the  conscience,  the 
whole  shrinking,  protesting  womanhood  of  the  one  who  had 
listened  so  eagerly  as  the  wrong  meditated  against  her  was 
explained?  Scoville  had  not  left  them  even  the  excuse 
that  they  believed  they  were  right,  having  shown  the  girl 
that  so  many  who  believed  this  were  wrong.  Miss  Lou's 
expression  made  at  least  one  thing  clear — she  was  emanci- 
pated and  had  taken  her  destiny  into  her  own  hands. 

Mrs.  Whately  felt  that  she  must  turn  the  tables  at  once, 
and  so  remarked,  "It  seems  to  me  that  the  whole  force  of 
your  argument  tells  against  the  North.  You  are  bent  upon 
conquering  the  South  and  making  it  think  as  you  do." 

"Oh,  no.     Here  the  law  of  self-preservation  comes  in. 


126  ''MISS   LOW' 

If  the  South  can  secede,  so  can  the  East  and  the  West. 
New  York  City  can  secede  from  the  State.  We  should 
have  no  country.  There  could  be  no  national  life.  Would 
England  accept  the  doctrine  of  secession,  and  permit  any 
part  of  her  dominions  to  set  up  for  themselves  when  they 
chose?  I  know  you  are  about  to  say  that  is  just  what  our 
fathers  did.  Yes,  but  old  mother  England  did  not  say, 
'Go,  my  children,  God  bless  youP  Nor  would  she  say  it 
now  to  any  other  region  over  which  floats  her  flag.  Of 
course,  if  you  whip  us,  we  shall  have  to  submit,  just  as 
England  did.  What  government  has  helplessly  sucked  its 
thumbs  when  certain  portions  of  the  territory  over  which 
it  had  jurisdiction  defied  its  power?  We  are  called  Goths 
and  Yandals,  but  that  is  absurd.  We  are  not  seeking  to 
conquer  the  South  in  any  such  old-world  ways.  We  are 
fighting  that  the  old  flag  may  be  as  supreme  here  as  in  New 
England.  The  moment  this  is  true  you  will  be  as  free  as 
are  the  people  of  New  England.  The  same  constitution 
and  laws  will  govern  all." 

"And  can  you  imagine  for  a  moment,  sir,"  cried  Mr. 
Baron,  "that  we  will  submit  to  a  government  that  would 
be  acceptable  to  New  England  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  and  years  hence,  when  the  South  has  become 
as  loyal  as  New  England  is  now,  if  that  abode  of  the  Yankees 
should  seek  independence  of  the  rest  of  the  country  she 
would  be  brought  back  under  the  flag.  I  would  fight  New 
England  as  readily  as  I  do  the  South,  if  she  sought  to  break 
up  the  Union.  I  would  fight  her  if  every  man,  woman  and 
child  within  her  borders  believed  themselves  right." 

Now  he  saw  Miss  Lou  looking  perplexed.  Her  quick 
mind  detected  the  spirit  of  coercion,  of  substituting  wills, 
against  which  he  had  been  inveighing  and  from  which  she 
had  suffered.  Mrs.  Whately  was  quick  to  see  the  apparent 
weakness  in  his  argument,  for  she  said,  "Consistency  is  a 
jewel  which  I  suppose  is  little  cared  for  by  those  so  ready 
to  appeal  to  force.  With  one  breath  you  say  we  must  not 
coerce  the  wills  of  others,  and  now  you  say  you  would, 


MISS   LOU   EMANCIPATED  127 

even  though  you  did  violence  to  universal  and  sacred 
beliefs." 

"I  say  only  that  the  nation  must  do  this  as  must  the  in- 
dividual. Some  one  might  say  to  me,  'I  honestly  think  I 
should  take  off  your  right  arm.'  I  would  not  permit  it 
if  I  could  help  it.  No  more  can  a  nation  submit  passively 
to  dismemberment.  The  South  did  not  expect  that  this 
nation  would  do  so.  It  promptly  prepared  for  war.  If  the 
North  had  said,  'We  can  do  nothing,  there's  a  blank,  write 
out  your  terms  and  we'll  sign,'  we  would  have  been  more 
thoroughly  despised  than  we  were,  if  that  were  possible. 
There  are  two  kinds  of  coercion.  For  instance,  I  do  not 
say  to  you,  Mrs.  Whately,  representing  the  South,  that 
you  must  think  and  feel  as  I  do  and  take  just  such  steps 
as  I  dictate;  but  that  there  are  things  which  you  must  re- 
frain from  doing,  because  in  their  performance,  no  matter 
how  sincere  you  were,  you  would  inflict  great  and  far-reach- 
ing wrong  on  others.  There  could  be  no  government  with- 
out restriction.  We  would  soon  have  anarchy  if  any  part 
of  a  nation  should  and  could  withdraw  when  it  chose  and 
how  it  pleased." 

"Your  doctrine,  sir,  would  banish  freedom  from  the 
world.  All  peoples  would  have  to  submit  to  the  central 
tyranny  called  government,  even  though  such  government 
had  become  hateful." 

"This  doctrine,  which  all  governments  act  upon,"  re- 
plied Scoville  pleasantly,  "has  not  banished  freedom  from 
the  world.  In  this  country,  where  every  man  has  a  voice, 
the  government  will  be  just  about  as  good  as  the  majority 
determine  it  shall  be. ' ' 

"Well,  sir,  to  sum  up  the  whole  matter,"  said  Mr.  Baron 
coldly^  "two  things  are  clear;  First,  the  South  is  deter- 
mined to  be  free;'  second,  if  we  fail  we  can  be  held  only 
under  the  heel  of  your  Northern  majority  as  Poland  is 
trodden  upon." 

Scoville  saw  that  the  discussion  had  gone  far  enough  for 
his  purposes,  and  he  said  with  a  good-natured  laugh,  "I'm 


1^  ''MISS   LOV 

neither  a  prophet  nor  his  son,  but  I  think  it  is  a  very  hope- 
ful sign  that  we  could  have  this  frank  interchange  of  views 
and  belief.  I  see  how  perfectly  sincere  you  are,  and  if  I 
had  been  brought  up  here  no  doubt  I  should  think  and  act 
as  you  do.  As  it  is,  I  am  only  a  very  humble  representa- 
tive of  the  Government  which  is  trying  to  preserve  its  own 
existence — a  Government  which  the  South  helped  to  form 
as  truly  as  the  North.  If  I  should  come  directly  to  your 
side,  contrary  to  belief  and  conscience,  you  would  be  the 
first  to  despise  me.  I  suppose  we  will  all  agree  that  we 
should  obey  the  supreme  dictates  of  conscience  ?' ' 

'*No,  sir,"  burst  out  Mr.  Baron,  "I  cannot  agree  to  any-, 
thing  of  the  kind.  There  are  multitudes  who  must  be 
guided  and  controlled  by  those  who  are  wiser,  older  and 
more  experienced.  Why,  sir,  you  would  have  the  very 
nursery  children  in  flat  rebellion. ' ' 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Baron,  I  have  not  said  one  word  against 
the  authority  of  parents  and  guardians." 

"Ah!  I  am  glad  you  draw  the  line  somewhere.  Half 
the  misery  in  the  world  results  from  young  people's  think- 
ing themselves  wiser  than  their  natural  advisers.  If  they 
can  merely  say  their  consciences  are  against  what  their  el- 
ders know  is  right  and  best,  we  have  anarchy  in  the  foun- 
tain-head of  society — the  family,"  and  he  glared  for  a  mo- 
ment at  his  niece. 

"What  you  say  seems  very  true,  Mr.  Baron.  I  should 
be  glad  to  know  where  you  draw  the  line  ?  Independent 
action  must  begin  at  some  period." 

While  Mr.  Baron  hesitated  over  this  rather  embarrassing 
question  Miss  Lou  startled  all  her  kindred  by  saying,  "I 
did  not  intend  to  take  any  part  in  this  conversation,  but  a 
glance  from  my  uncle  makes  his  last  remark  personal  to 
me.  I  am  at  least  old  enough  to  ask  one  or  two  ques- 
tions. Do  you  think  it  right,  Lieutenant  Scoville,  that  a 
woman  should  never  have  any  independent  life  of  her 
own?", 

"Why,  Miss  Baron,   what  a  question  I     Within  the  re- 


MISS    LOU   EMANCIPATED  129 

ceived  limits  of  good  taste  a  woman  has  as  much  right  to 
independent  action  as  a  man." 

"Well,  then,  how  can  she  ever  have  any  independence 
if  she  is  treated  as  a  child  up  to  one  day  of  her  life,  and  the 
next  day  is  expected  to  promise  she  will  obey  a  man  as  long 
as  he  lives?" 

The  angry  spots  in  Mrs.  Baron's  cheeks  had  been  burn- 
ing deeper  and  deeper,  and  now  she  spoke  promptly  and 
freezingly,  "Mr.  Scoville,  I  absolve  you  from  answering 
one  who  is  proving  herself  to  be  neither  a  child  nor  a  re- 
fined woman.  I  did  not  expect  this  additional  humiliation. 
If  it  had  not  occurred  I  would  have  taken  no  part  in  the 
conversation.  Mr.  Baron,  I  think  we  have  granted  even 
more  than  the  most  quixotic  idea  of  courtesy  could  de- 
mand." 

"'Granted?  demand?'  surely  there  is  some  mistake, 
madam,"  said  Scoville  with  dignity,  as  he  rose  instantly 
from  the  table.  "I  have  asked  nothing  whatever  except 
that  you  should  dismiss  your  fears  as  far  as  I  and  my  men 
are  concerned." 

Mrs.  Whately  was  provoked  equally  at  herself  and  all 
the  others.  She  now  deeply  regretted  that  she  had  not  left 
the  Union  officer  to  obtain  his  supper  where  and  how  he 
could,  but  felt  that  she  must  smooth  matters  over  as  far  as 
possible.  "Lieutenant  Scoville,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "you 
must  make  allowances  for  people  in  the  deepest  stress  of 
trouble.  We  did  intend  all  the  courtesy  which  our  first 
remarks  defined.  Of  course  you  cannot  know  our  circum- 
stances, and  when  words  are  spoken  which  cut  to  the  quick 
it  is  hard  to  give  no  sign.  Perhaps  our  hearts  are  too  sore 
and  our  differences  too  radical — "  and  she  hesitated. 

"I  understand  you,  madam,"  said  Scoville,  bowing.  "I 
can  only  repeat  my  assurances  of  your  safety  and  express  my 
regret — ' ' 

"Oh,  shame!"  cried  Miss  Lou,  whose  anger  and  indig- 
nation now  passed  all  bounds.  "We  are  not  in  the  deepest 
stress  of  trouble,  and  you,  Mrs.  Whately,  are  the  last  one 


180  *'MI88   LOU" 

to  say  it.  I  saw  this  gentleman's  sabre  poised  at  your  son's 
throat  long  enough  to  have  killed  him  twice  over,  and  he 
did  not  do  it,  even  in  the  excitement  of  defending  his  own 
life.  After  Mrs.  Baron's  words  he  again  assures  us  of 
safety.  What  did  you  all  predict  would  happen  immedi- 
ately when  Northern  soldiers  came  ?  Whether  I  am  refined 
or  not,  I  am  at  least  grateful.  Lieutenant,  please  come  with 
me.  I  will  try  to  prove  that  I  appreciate  your  courtesy  and 
forbearance,"  and  she  led  the  way  from  the  room. 

He  bowed  ceremoniously  to  Mr.  Baron  and  the  ladies, 
then  followed  the  girl,  leaving  them  almost  paralyzed  by 
their  conflicting  emotions. 


A   SMILE   ON    WAR'S    GRIM  FACE  i31 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  SMILE   ON   war's   GRIM   FACE 

MISS  LOU  led  the  way  to  the  broad,  moonlit  piazza. 
As  Scoville  followed,  he  saw  that  the  girl  was  trem- 
bling violently,  and  he  was  thus  able  to  grasp  in 
some  degree  the  courage  she  was  manifesting  in  her  first 
half- desperate  essays  toward  freedom.  "Poor  child!"  he 
thought,  "her  fright  is  surpassed  only  by  her  determina- 
tion. How  easily  they  could  manage  her  by  a  little  tact 
and  kindness!" 

She  pointed  to  a  chair  near  the  hall  door  and  faltered, 
"Lieutenant  Scoville,  I  scarcely  know  whether  I  am  doing 
right  in  seeing  you  here  alone.  I  know  little  of  the  usages 
of  society.     I  do  not  wish  to  appear  to  you  unrefined." 

"Miss  Baron,"  he  replied  kindly,  "I  do  not  know  why 
you  have  not  the  same  right  which  other  young  ladies  en- 
joy, of  entertaining  a  gentleman  at  your  home." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  not  angry." 

"I  was  never  more  lamb-like  in  my  disposition  than  at 
this  moment.  Moreover,  I  wish  to  thank  you  as  a  brave 
girl  and  a  genuine  lady." 

She  was  almost  panting  in  her  strong  excitement  and 
embarrassment.  "Please  remember,"  she  said,  "that  1  do 
not  wish  to  do  or  say  anything  unbecoming,  but  I  know  so 
little  and  have  been  so  tried — " 

"Miss  Baron,"  and  he  spoke  low  for  fear  he  would  be 
overheard,  "I  already  know  something  of  what  you  have 
passed  through  and  of  your  brave   assertion  of   a  sacred 


tSQ  **MIS8   LOW 

right  Continue  that  assertion '  and  no  one  can  force  you 
into  marriage.  I  have  ridden  nearly  twenty-four  hoars  to 
be  here  in  time  and  to  make  some  return  for  your  great 
kindness,  but  you  were  so  brave  that  you  scarcely  needed 
help." 

"Oh!  I  did  need  it.  1  was  so  frightened  and  so  desper- 
ate that  I  was  almost  ready  to  faint.  My  cousin  is  one  who 
will  have  his  own  way.  He  has  never  been  denied  a  thing 
in  his  life.  I  should  have  been  taken  away  at  least  and 
then — oh,  I  just  felt  as  if  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  It 
seems  dreadful  that  I  should  be  speaking  so  of  my  kindred 
to  a  stranger  and  enemy — " 

"Enemy!  Far  from  it.  A  friend.  Have  you  not  pro- 
tected my  life  and  liberty  ?  Miss  Baron,  I  give  you  my 
sacred  word,  I  swear  to  you  by  my  mother's  memory  to  be 
as  loyal  to  you  as  if  you  were  my  own  sister.  Young  as  I 
am,  perhaps  I  can  advise  you  and  help  you,  for  it  is  indeed 
clear  that  you  need  a  friend." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  what  relief  your  words  bring,  for,  in- 
experienced as  I  am,  something  assures  me  that  I  can  trust 
you." 

"Indeed  you  can.  I  should  spoil  my  own  life  more 
truly  than  yours  if  I  were  not  true  to  my  oath.  Please  re- 
member this  and  have  confidence.  That  is  what  you  need 
most — confidence.  Believe  in  yourself  as  well  as  in  me. 
Have  you  not  been  brave  and  true  to  yourself  in  the  most 
painful  of  ordeals?  Try  to  keep  your  selr-control  and  you 
will  make  no  serious  mistakes,  and  never  so  misjudge  me  as 
to  imagine  I  shall  not  recognize  your  good  intentions." 

"Ah!"  she  sighed,  with  a  rush  of  tears,  "that's  the 
trouble.     I'm  so  hasty;  I  lose  my  temper. " 

He  smiled  very  genially  as  he  said,  "If  you  were  as 
amiable  as  some  girls  you  would  have  been  married  before 
this.  Don't  you  see  in  what  good  stead  your  high  spirit 
has  stood  you  ?  I  do  not  censure  righteous  anger  when 
you  are  wronged.  You  are  one  who  could  not  help  such 
anger,  and,  if  controlled,  it  will  only  help  you.     All  I  ask 


A   SMILE    ON    WAR'S    GRIM   FACE  ^8S 

is  that  you  so  control  it  as  to  take  no  false  steps  and  keep 
well  within  your  certain  rights.  You  are  in  a  peculiarly- 
painful  position.  Your  kindred  truly  mean  well  by  you — 
see  how  fair  I  am — but  if  they  could  carry  out  their  inten- 
tions and  marry  you  to  that  spoiled  boy,  you  would  be  one 
of  the  most  unhappy  of  women.  If  he  is  capable  of  trying 
to  force  you  to  marry  him  he  would  always  be  imperious 
and  unreasonable.  You  would  be  a  bard  one  to  manage, 
Miss  Baron,  by  the  words.  You  must,  and  You  shall;  but  I 
think  Please  would  go  a  good  way  if  your  reason  and  con- 
science were  satisfied." 

"Indeed,  sir,  you  are  rigbt.  If  I  loved  my  cousin  I 
would  marry  him  even  though  he  were  so  badly  wounded 
as  to  be  helpless  all  his  life.  But  my  whole  soul  protests 
against  the  thought  of  marriage  to  any  one.  Why,  sir,  you 
can't  know  how  like  a  child  I've  always  been  treated.  I 
feel  that  I  have  a  right  to  remain  as  I  am,  to  see  more  of 
the  world,  to  know  more  and  enjoy  more  of  life.  I  can 
scarcely  remember  when  I  was  truly  happy,  so  strictly  have 
I  been  brought  up,  You  would  not  believe  it,  but  poor  old 
Aun'  Jin  key,  my  mammy,  is  almost  the  only  one  who  has 
not  always  tried  to  make  me  do  something  whether  I  wish 
to  or  not.  My  aunt,  Mrs.  Whately,  has  meant  to  be  kind, 
but  even  in  my  childish  squabbles  with  my  cousin,  and  in 
his  exactions,  she  always  took  his  part.  I  just  want  to  be 
free — that's  all." 

*'Well,  Miss  Baron,  you  are  free  now,  and  if  you  will 
simply  assert  your  rights  with  quiet  dignity  you  can  re- 
main free.  Your  kindred  are  mistaken  in  their  attitude 
toward  you,  and  you  can  make  them  see  this  in  time.  They 
are  well-bred  people  and  are  not  capable  of  using  force  or 
yiolence.  They  did,  I  suppose,  believe  terrible  things  of 
me  and  those  I  represent,  and  their  action,  perhaps,  has 
been  due  partially  to  panic.  That  crisis  is  past;  you  have 
only  to  trust  your  own  best  instincts  in  order  to  meet  future 
emergencies.  Whatever  comes,  remember  that  your  North- 
ern friend  said  he  had  confidence  that  you  would  do  what  is 


184  *'MISS  LOU" 

brave  and  right.  Perliaps  we  shall  never  meet  again,  for 
we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  fierce,  active  campaign.  There  is 
much  advice  I  would  like  to  give  you,  but  we  shall  not  be 
left  alone  long,  and  the  best  thing  now,  after  this  long,  hard 
day,  is  for  you  to  get  your  mind  quiet  and  hopeful.  How 
quiet  and  peaceful  everything  is!  not  a  harsh  sound  to  be 
heard." 

"Yes,  afid  think  what  they  tried  to  make  me  believe! 
They  all  should  be  treating  you  with  kindness  instead  of — " 
but  here  she  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  Mrs. 
Whately. 

In  order  to  understand  that  lady's  action  and  that  of  her 
relatives,  we  must  go  back  to  the  moment  when  Miss  Lou 
and  Scoville  left  the  supper-room.  Mrs.  Whately  was  the 
first  to  recover  her  self-possession  and  some  true  apprecia- 
tion of  their  situation.  Mr.  Baron  in  his  rage  would  have 
gone  out  and  broken  up  the  conference  on  the  piazza,  but 
his  sister  said  almost  sternly,  "Sit  down." 

"Well,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Baron,  bitterly,  "I  hope  you 
are  both  satisfied  now  with  the  results  of  courtesy  to  Yan- 
kees. I  knew  I  was  right  in  believing  that  we  could  have 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  them.  I  think  it  is  monstrous 
that  Louise  is  alone  with  one  on  the  piazza,  and  her  uncle 
should  interfere  at  once." 

"Brother,"  said  Mrs.  Whately,  "you  can  see  our  niece 
through  the  window  from  where  you  sit.  She  is  talking 
quietly  with  the  officer." 

"Yes,  and  what  may  he  not  say  to  her?  Already  her 
contumacious  rebellion  passes  all  bounds.  She  has  heard 
too  much  incendiary  talk  from  him  already"  and  he  again 
rose  to  end  the  interview. 

"Hector  Baron,"  said  his  sister  solemnly,  "you  must 
listen  to  me  first,  before  you  take  any  further  steps.  We 
will  say  nothing  more  about  the  past.  It's  gone  and  can't 
be  helped.  Now,  with  all  the  influence  I  have  over  you, 
I  urge  you  and  your  wife  to  remain  here  until  you  are  calm 
— till  you  have  had  a  chance  to  think.     Is  this  a  time  for 


A    SMILE   ON    WAR'S    GRIM   FACE  135 

headlong  anger  ?  Was  there  ever  a  period  in  your  life  when 
you  should  so  carefully  consider  the  consequences  of  your 
action?  Please  tell  me  how  you  and  sister  are  going  to 
make  Louise  do  and  think  exactly  what  you  wish.  This  is 
no  time  for  blinking  the  truth  that  you  have  alienated  her. 
You  could  easily  now  drive  her  to  do  something  rash  and 
terrible.  I  understand  her  better  every  moment  and  feel 
that  we  have  taken  the  wrong  course.  She  would  have  gone 
away  with  Madison  as  his  cousin,  and  wifehood  would  have 
come  naturally  later.  We  have  been  too  hasty,  too  arbi- 
trary. You  both  must  recognize  the  truth  that  you  cannot 
treat  her  as  a  child  any  longer  or  you  will  lose  her  alto- 
gether, for  in  this  matter  of  marriage  she  has  been  made  to 
know  that  she  is  not  a  child.  She  can  be  led  into  it  now, 
but  not  forced  into  it.  Her  course  is  open  now,  but  if  you 
continue  arbitrary  her  action  may  become  clandestine 
and  even  reckless.  Then  in  regard  to  this  Yankee  officer. 
Alas !  what  he  says  is  too  true.  In  our  strong  feeling  we 
shut  our  eyes  to  facts.  Are  we  not  in  his  power  ?  He  has 
spared  my  son's  life  and  your  property  and  hogoae,  and  yet 
he  has  been  virtually  ordered  out  of  the  house.  There  is 
truth  in  what  Louise  said.  We  are  not  in  the  deepest  stress 
of  trouble — infinitely  removed  from  the  trouble  we  might 
be  in." 

* '  He  has  not  spared  my  property, ' '  growled  Mr.  Baron, 
"he  has  told  all  my  people  they  are  free.  Where  does  that 
leave  me?'* 

"Now,  brother,  your  very  words  prove  how  essential  it 
is  that  you  regain  your  self-control  and  reason.  Is  this 
young  officer  going  through  the  country  on  his  own  respon- 
sibility ?  He  only  echoes  the  proclamation  of  Abe  Lincoln, 
whom  he  is  bound  to  obey.  Since  we  entered  on  the  dis- 
cussion of  our  differences  could  we  expect  him  to  do  other- 
wise than  present  his  side  as  strongly  as  he  could  ?  Now 
if  you  and  sister  can  shake  all  this  off  by  one  mighty  effort 
of  your  wills,  do  so;  biit  if  we  do  not  wish  to  invite  every 
evil  we  predicted,  do  let  us  be  calm  and  rational.     For  one, 


136  **M18if  LOU" 

1  feel  Louise's  reproof  keenly,  and  it  will  not  do  to  outrage 
her  sense  of  justice  any  longer.  This  officer  has  proved 
that  we  were  wrong  in  our  predictions  before  he  came.  If 
now  we  continue  to  treat  him  as  outside  the  pale  of  courtesy, 
we  lose  her  sympathy  utterly  and  do  our  utmost  to  provoke 
him  and  his  men.  Merciful  heaven!  if  my  son  were  a  bleed- 
ing corpse  or  dying  in  agony,  what  would  the  world  be  to 
me  ?  I  shall  apologize  to  him  and  treat  him  with  politeness 
as  long  as  I  am  under  his  protection. ' ' 

"I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,"  said  Mrs.  Baron, 
pressing  her  thin  lips  together. 

"Well,  well,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Baron,  "I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  become  meeker  than  Moses,  and  kiss  every  rod  that 
smites  me  for  fear  of  getting  a  harsher  blow. ' ' 

Mrs.  Whately  felt  that  it  was  useless  to  say  anything 
more,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  joined  her  niece. 

"Lieutenant,"  she  said,  "we  owe  you  an  apology,  and 
I  freely  and  frankly  offer  it.  I  fear  you  think  we  are  mak- 
ing sorry  return  for  your  kindness." 

"Mrs.  Whately,  I  appreciate  your  good  intentions,  and 
I  can  make  allowance  for  the  feelings  of  my  host  and  host- 
ess. The  fine  courtesy  of  Miss  Baron  would  disarm  hostil- 
ity itself,  but  I  assure  you  that  there  is  no  personal  hostility 
on  my  part  to  any  of  you. " 

"Well,  sir,  I  must  say  that  I  regard  it  as  a  very  kind 
ordering  of  Providence  that  we  have  fallen  into  such  hands 
as  yours. ' ' 

"I  certainly  am  in  no  mood  to  complain,"  he  replied, 
laughing.  "Perhaps  experience  has  taught  us  that  we  had 
better  ignore  our  differences.  1  was  just  remarking  to  Miss 
Baron  on  the  beauty  and  peacefulness  of  the  night.  Will 
you  not  join  us  ?  We  can  imagine  a  flag  of  truce  flying, 
under  which  we  can  be  just  as  good  friends  as  we  please." 

"Thank  you.  I  will  join  you  with  pleasure,"  and  she 
sat  down  near  her  niece.  "Well,"  she  added,  "this  is  a 
scene  to  be  remembered." 

Miss  Lou  looked  at  Scoville  gratefully,  for  his  words 


A   SMILE    ON    WAR'S    ORIM  FACE  187 

and  manner  had  all  tended  to  reassure  her.  In  her  revolt, 
he  showed  no  disposition  to  encourage  recklessness  on  her 
part.  As  her  mind  grew  calmer  she  saw  more  clearly  the 
course  he  had  tried  to  define — that  of  blended  firmness 
and  courtesy  to  her  relatives.  She  was  so  unsophisticated 
and  had  been  so  confused  and  agitated,  that  she  scarcely 
knew  where  to  draw  the  line  between  simple,  right  action 
and  indiscretion.  Conscious  of  her  inexperience,  inclined 
to  be  both  timid  and  reckless  in  her  ignorance  and  trouble, 
she  began  even  now  to  cling,  metaphorically,  to  his  strong, 
sustaining  hand.  His  very  presence  produced  a  sense  of  rest- 
fulness  and  safety,  and  when  he  began  to  call  attention  to 
the  scenes  and  sounds  about  them  she  was  sufficiently  quiet 
to  be  appreciative. 

Dew  sparkled  in  the  grass  of  the  lawn  on  which  the 
shadows  of  trees  and  shrubbery  fell  motionless.  The  air 
was  balmy  and  sweet  with  the  fragrance  of  spring  flowers. 
The  mocking-birds  were  in  full  ecstatic  song,  their  notes 
scaling  down  from  bursts  of  melody  to  the  drollery  of  all 
kinds  of  imitation.  The  wounded  men  on  the  far  end  of 
the  piazza  were  either  sleeping  or  talking  in  low  tones, 
proving  that  there  was  no  extremity  of  suffering.  Off  to 
the  left,  between  them  and  the  negro  quarters,  were  two 
or  three  fires,  around  which  the  Union  soldiers  were  re- 
clining, some  already  asleep  after  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
others  playing  cards  or  spinning  yarns,  while  one,  musically 
inclined,  was  evoking  from  a  flute  an  air  plaintive  ajid  sweet 
in  the  distance.  Further  away  under  the  trees,  shadows  in 
shadow,  the  horses  were  dimly  seen  eating  their  provender. 
The  Confederate  prisoners,  smoking  about  a  fire,  appeared 
to  be  taking  the  "horrors  of  captivity"  very  quietly  and 
comfortably.  At  the  quarters  they  heard  the  sound  of 
negro- singing,  half  barbaric  in  its  wildness.    ' 

**It  is  hard  to  realize  that  this  scene  means  war,'*  re- 
marked Miss  Lou,  after  they  had  gazed  and  listened  a  few 
moments  in  silence. 

**Yet  it  does,"  said  Scoville  quietly.      *  Look  down  the 


188  ''MISS  LOW 

avenue.  Do  yon  not  see  the  glint  of  the  moonbeams  on 
a  carbine?  All  around  us  are  men  mounted  and  armed. 
If  a  shot  were  fired,  we  should  all  be  ready  for  battle  in 
three  minutes.  Those  prisoners  will  be  guarded  with  sleep- 
less vigilance  till  I  deliver  them  up.  There  is  a  sentinel  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  three  guarding  the  out- buildings, 
and  so  it  will  be  till  1  am  relieved  and  another  takes 
command." 

*'Who  will  he  be?"  she  asked  apprehensively. 

"I  do  not  know." 

* '  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  guard  us  till  these  troubles  are 
over." 

"I  can  honestly  echo  that  wish,"  added  Mrs.  Whately. 

"Thank  you.  It  would  be  pleasanter  duty  than  usually 
falls  to  the  lot  of  a  soldier.  Yet  in  these  times  I  scarcely 
know  what  my  duty  may  be  from  hour  to  hour. ' ' 

"You  told  us  that  we  need  not  fear  anything  to-night," 
began  Mrs.  Whately. 

"Not  unless  I  am  attacked,  I  said.  I  am  aware  that  at 
this  moment  your  son  is  seeking  a  force  to  do  this.  I  do 
not  think  that  he  will  be  able  to  find  any,  however,  before 
morning.  In  any  event  you  could  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
us,  except  as  your  dreams  were  disturbed  by  a  battle. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  soldier !' '  exclaimed  the  girl.  ' '  This 
whole  scene  seems  as  if  taken  right  out  of  a  story." 

"You  are  looking  at  this  moment  on  the  bright  side  of 
our  life.  At  any  rate,  I'm  glad  you're  not  a  soldier.  If 
you  were,  my  duty  might  be  made  more  difficult.  It  has 
other  and  very  different  sides.  By  the  way,  I  would  like 
to  watch  those  negroes  a  little  while,  and  listen  to  them. 
Their  performances  always  interest  me  deeply.  Will  not 
you  ladies  go  with  me  ?  Soon  I  must  get  some  rest  while 
I  can." 

Miss  Lou  looked  at  her  aunt,  who  hesitated  a  moment, 
then  said,  "I  am  very  tired.  Lieutenant.  I  will  trust  you  as 
a  chivalrous  enemy  to  take  my  niece,  and  I  will  it  here 
until  you  return." 


A   SMILE    ON    WAR'S    GRIM    FACE  139 

*'I  deeply  appreciate  your  kindness,  madam." 

Miss  Lou  went  with  him  gladly  and  found  herself  at  the 
close  of  the  long,  miserable  day  becoming  positively  happy. 
When  out  of  hearing  she  said,  "Aunt's  permission  almost 
took  away  my  breath.  Yet  it  seems  to  me  just  the  way  a 
girl  ought  to  be  treated.  Oh,  how  perfectly  delicious  is 
a  little  bit  of  freedom !  How  perfectly  grand  to  have  some- 
thing going  on  that  does  not  mean  no  end  of  trouble  to 
one's  self!" 

Scoville  laughed  lightly  as  he  replied,  *'I  now  wish  you 
were  a  soldier  and  an  officer  in  my  regiment.  You  and  I 
would  make  good  comrades. ' ' 

"You  forget,  sir,"  she  answered  in  like  vein,  "that  I  am 
a  bloodthirsty  little  rebel. ' ' 

"On  the  contrary,  I  remember  that  yours  was  the  kind, 
pitying  face  which  made  me  half  fancy  I  was  in  heaven 
when  recovering  from  my  swoon." 

"Chunk  and  Aun'  Jinkey  brought  you  back  to  earth 
right  sudden,  didn't  they?"  and  her  laugh  rang  out 
merrily. 

"Sister,"  cried  Mr.  Baron,  running  out  on  the  veranda, 
"what  on  earth — I  thought  I  heard  Louise  laugh  way  o2 
toward  the  quarters. ' ' 

"You  did." 

"What!  has  she  broken  all  bounds,  defied  all  authority, 
and  gone  utterly  wild  in  her  rebellion  ?' ' 

Mrs.  Whately  made  a  gesture  of  half  irritable  protest. 
Meantime,  Mrs.  Baron,  hearing  her  husband's  voice,  came 
out  and  exclaimed,  "Is  that  Louise  and  the  Yankee  yonder 
going  off  alone  ?' ' 

"They  are  not  'going  off.'  You  and  brother  may  join 
them  if  you  wish.  They  simply  intend  to  watch  the  people 
at  the  quarters  a  little  while,  and  I  will  wait  here  for 
them." 

"Sarah  Whately!"  gasped  Mrs.  Baron,  "can  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  have  permitted  our  ward  to  do  such  an  in- 
delicate thing  ?     She  has  never  been  permitted  to  go  out 


140  ''MISS   LOW 

alone  in  the  evening  with  any  young  man,  and  the  idea 
that  she  should  begin  with  a  Yankee P'' 

"She  is  not  alone.  She  is  always  within  call  and  most 
of  the  time  in  sight.  I  will  make  one  more  effort  to  bring 
you  both  to  reason,"  added  Mrs.  Whately,  warmly,  "and 
then,  if  we  continue  to  diSer  so  radically,  I  will  return 
home  in  the  morning,  after  giving  Louise  to  understand 
that  she  can  always  find  a  refuge  with  me  if  it  is  necessary. 
Can  you  think  I  would  let  the  girl  whom  my  son  hopes  to 
marry  do  an  indelicate  thing  ?  Pardon  me,  but  1  think  I 
am  competent  to  judge  in  such  matters.  I  will  be  answer- 
able for  her  conduct  and  that  of  Lieutenant  Scoville  also, 
for  he  is  a  gentleman  if  he  is  our  enemy.  I  tell  you  again 
that  your  course  toward  Louise  will  drive  her  to  open, 
reckless  defiance.  It  is  a  critical  time  with  her.  She  is  my 
niece  as  well  as  your  ward,  and  it  is  the  dearest  wish  of 
myself  and  son  that  she  should  be  bound  to  us  by  the 
closest  ties.  I  will  not  have  her  future  and  all  our  hopes 
endangered  by  a  petty,  useless  tyranny.  If  you  will  treat 
her  like  a  young  lady  of  eighteen  I  believe  she  will  act 
like  one." 

Mrs.  Baron  was  speechless  in  her  anger,  but  her  husband 
began,  "Oh,  well,  if  he  were  a  Southern  officer — " 

Then  the  blood  of  her  race  became  too  hot  for  Mrs. 
Whately's  control,  and  she  sprang  up,  saying,  "Well, 
then,  go  and  tell  him  to  his  face  that  he's  a  vile  Yankee, 
a  Goth  and  Yandal,  a  ruthless  invader,  unworthy  of  a  mo- 
ment's trust,  and  incapable  of  behaving  like  a  gentleman! 
Take  no  further  protection  at  his  hands.  How  can  you  be 
,so  blind  as  not  to  see  I  am  doing  the  best  thing  possible 
to  retain  Louise  within  our  control  and  lead  her  to  fulfil 
our  hopes  ?  I  ask  you  again,  how  are  you  going  to  make 
Louise  do  what  you  wish  V  You  cannot  be  arbitrary  with 
even  one  of  your  own  slaves  any  longer." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Baron,  "I  wash  my  hands  of  it  all," 
and  she  retired  to  her  room.  Mr.  Baron  sat  down  in  a  chair 
and  groaned  aloud.     It  was  desperately  hard  for  him  to  ac- 


A   SMILE   ON    WARS    GRIM   FACE  141 

cept  the  strange  truth  that  he  could  not  order  every  one  on 
the  place,  his  niece  included,  to  do  just  what  pleased  him. 
Never  had  an  autocratic  potentate  been  more  completely 
nonplussed;  but  his  sister's  words,  combined  with  events, 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  his  impotence  so  inexorably 
that  for  a  time  he  had  nothing  to  say. 


142  ''MISS  LOU 


CHAPTBE  XVII 

THE    JOY    OF    FREEDOM 

IN  an  open  space  near  the  quarters  the  negroes  had  kindled 
a  fire,  although  the  night  was  mild.  These  children  of 
the  sun  love  warmth  and  all  that  is  cheerful  and  bright, 
their  emotions  appearing  to  kindle  more  readily  with  the 
leaping  flames.  When  Miss  Lou  and  Scoville  approached, 
the  worshippers  were  just  concluding  the  hymn  heard  on 
the  piazza.  From  the  humble  cabins  stools,  benches,  rickety 
chairs,  and  nondescript  seats  made  from  barrels,  had  been 
brought  and  placed  in  a  circle  close  about  the  fire.  These 
were  occupied  by  the  elderly  and  infirm.  Uncle  Lusthah, 
whose  name  had  been  evolved  from  Methuselah,  was  the 
evident  leader  of  the  meeting,  and  Miss  Lou  whispered  to 
her  attendant,  "He's  the  recognized  preacher  among  them, 
and  I  believe  he  tries  to  live  up  to  his  ideas  of  right. ' ' 

"Then  I'll  listen  to  him  very  respectfully,"  said  Scoville. 

Their  advent  created  quite  a  commotion,  and  not  a  few 
were  inclined  to  pay  court  to  the  "Linkum  ossifer."  All 
who  had  seats  rose  to  offer  them,  but  Scoville  smiled,  shook 
his  head  and  waved  them  back.  Uncle  Lusthah  immedi- 
ately regained  attention  by  shouting,  "Look  at  me":  then, 
"Now  look  up.  Who  we  uns  befo' ?  De  King.  De  gret 
Jehovah.  Bow  yo'  haids  humble;  drap  yo'  eyes.  Tek  ofi 
de  shoon  fum  yo'  feet  lak  Moses  w'en  he  gwine  neah  de 
bunin'  bush.  Young  mars'r  en  young  mistis  standin'  dar 
'spectful.  Dey  knows  dat  ef  de  gret  Linkum  yere  hissef, 
Linkum's  Lawd  en  Mars'r  yere  befo'  'im.     Let  us  all  gib 


THE  JOY   OF   FREEDOM  143 

our  'tention  ter  'Im  who's  brung  'liverance  ter  Israel  at 
las'.  We  gwine  troo  de  Eed  Sea  ob  wah  now  en  des  whar 
de  promis'  Ian'  is  we  got  ter  fin'  out,  but  we  hab  tu'ned 
our  backs  on  ole  Egypt  en  we  ain'  gwine  back  no  mo'. 
Brudren  en  sistas,  jou'se  yeard  a  Gospil,  a  good  news,  dis 
eb'nin'  sbo.  You'se  yeard  you  free,  bress  de  Lawd!  I'se 
been  waitin'  fer  dis  news  mo'  yeahs  den  I  kin  reckermem- 
ber,  but  dey's  come  'fo'  my  ole  haid's  under  de  sod.  Hit's 
all  right  dat  we  is  glad  en  sing  aloud  for  joy,  but  we  orter 
rejice  wid  trem'lin'.  De  'sponsibil'ties  ob  freedom  is  des 
tremenjus.  Wat  you  gwine  ter  do  wid  freedom?  Does 
you  tink  you  kin  git  lazy  en  thievin'  en  drunken  ?  Is  dere 
any  sech  foolishness  yere?  Will  eny  man  or  ooman  call 
deysefs  free  w'en  dey's  slabes  ter  some  mean,  nasty  vice  ? 
Sech  folks  al'ays  be  slabes,  en  dey  orter  be  slabes  ter  a  man 
wid  a  big  whip.  See  how  de  young  mars'r  'haves  dat  brung 
de  news  ob  freedom.  He  know  he  juty  en  he  does  hit 
brave.  He  mek  de  w'ite  sogers  he  'mands  des  toe  de  mark. 
We  got  ter  toe  a  long,  wi'te  mark.  We  ain'  free  ter  do 
foolishness  no  mo'  dan  he  en  he  men  is.  De  gret  Linkum 
got  he  eye  on  you;  de  Cap'n  ob  our  salvation  got  He  eye 
on  you.  Now  I  des  gib  you  some  'structions,"  and  happy 
it  would  have  been  for  the  freedmen — for  their  masters  and 
deliverers  also,  it  may  be  added — if  all  had  followed  Uncle 
Lusthah's  "  'structions.'* 

When  through  with  his  exhortation  the  old  preacher 
knelt  down  on  the  box  which  served  as  his  pulpit  and 
offered  a  fervent  petition.  From  the  loud  "amens"  and 
*'  'lujahs"  he  evidently  voiced  the  honest  feeling  of  the 
hour  in  his  dusky  audience.  Scoville  was  visibly  affected 
at  the  reference  to  him.  "May  de  deah  Lawd  bress  de 
young  Linkum  ossifer,"  rose  Uncle  Lusthah's  tones,  loud, 
yet  with  melodious  power  and  pathos,  for  he  was  gifted 
with  a  voice  of  unusual  compass,  developed  by  his  calling. 
"He  des  took  he  life  in  he  hand  en  come  down  in  de  Ian'  ob 
de  shadder,  de  gret,  dark  shadder  dat's  been  restin'  on  de 
hearts  ob  de  slabes.      We  had  no  fader,  no  muder,  no  wife, 


144  ''MISS    LOW 

no  cliile.  Dey  didn't  'long  to  we  fer  dey  cud  be  sole  riglit 
out'n  our  arms  en  we  see  dem  no  mo'.  De  gret  shadder  ob 
slav'y  swallow  dem  up.  Young  mars'r  face  de  bullit,  face 
de  so'ed,  face  de  curse  ter  say  we  free.  May  de  Lawd  be  he 
shiel'  en  buckler,  compass  'im  roun'  wid  angel  wings,  stop 
de  ban'  riz  ter  strike,  tu'n  away  de  bullit  aim  at  he  heart. 
May  de  Lawd  brung  'im  gray  nars  at  las  lak  mine,  so  he 
see,  en  his  chil'n  see,  en  our  chil'n  see  de  'live ranee  he  hep 
wrought  out. 

"En  dar's  young  mistis.  She  hab  a  heart  ter  feel  fer  de 
po'  slabe.  She  al'ays  look  kin'  at  us,  en  she  stood  'tween 
us  en  woun's  en  death;  w'en  all  was  agin  us  en  she  in  de 
watehs  ob  triberlation  hersef,  she  say  'fo'  dem  all,  'No  harm 
come  ter  us.'  She  pat  her  lil  w'ite  arm  roun'  her  ole 
mammy."  ("Dat  she  did,"  cried  Aun'  Jinkey,  who  was 
swaying  back  and  forth  where  the  fire  lit  up  her  wrinkled 
visage,  "en  de  gret  red  welt  on  her  shol'er  now.")  "She 
took  de  blow,"  continued  Uncle  Lusthah,  amid  groans  and 
loud  lamentations,  "en  de  Lawd,  wid  whose  stripes  we 
healed,  will  bress  her  en  hab  aready  bressed  her  en  brung 
her  'liverance  'long  o'  us.  May  He  keep  her  eyes  fum 
teahs,  en  her  heart  fam  de  breakiri'  trouble;  may  He  shine 
on  a  path  dat  lead  ter  all  de  bes'  tings  in  dis  yere  worl'  en 
den  ter  de  sweet  home  ob  heb'n!" 

When  the  voice  of  Uncle  Lusthah  ceased  Scoville  heard 
a  low  sob  from  Miss  Lou  at  his  side  and  he  was  conscious 
that  tears  stood  in  his  own  eyes.  His  heart  went  out  in 
strong  homage  to  the  young  girl  to  whom  such  tribute  had 
been  paid  and  her  heart  thrilled  at  the  moment  as  she  dis- 
tinguished his  deep  "amen"  in  the  strong,  general  indorse- 
ment of  the  petition  in  her  behalf. 

Then  rose  a  hymn  which  gathered  such  volume  and 
power  that  it  came   back  in  echoes  from  distant  groves. 

"Hark,  hark,  I  year  a  soun'.     Hit  come  fum  far  away; 
"Wake,  wake,  en  year  de  soun'  dat  come  fum  far  away. 
De  night  am  dark,  de  night  been  long,  but  dar  de  mawnin'  gray; 
En  wid  de  light  is  comin'  sweet  a  soun'  fum  far  away. 


THE  JOY   OF  FREEDOM  145 

**Look  how  de  light  am  shinin'  now  across  de  gret  Red  Sea. 
On  Egypt  sho'  we  stay  no  mo'  in  slabing  misery. 
Ole  Pharaoh  year  de  voice  ob  Grod,  'Des  set  my  people  free;' 
En  now  we  march  wid  song  en  shout,  right  troo  the  gret  Red  Sea." 

Every  line  ended  with  the  rising  inflection  of  more  than 
%  hundred  voices,  followed  by  a  pause  in  which  the  echoes 
repeated  clearly  the  final  sound.  The  effect  was  weird, 
strange  in  the  last  degree,  and,  weary  as  he  was,  Scoville 
felt  all  his  nerves  tingling. 

The  meeting  now  broke  up,  to  be  followed  by  dancing 
and  singing  among  the  younger  negroes.  Uncle  Lusthah, 
Aun'  Jinkey,  and  many  others  crowded  around  Scoville 
and  "the  young  mistis"  to  pay  their  respects.  Chunk  and 
Zany,  standing  near,  graciously  accepted  the  honors  show- 
ered upon  them.  The  officer  speedily  gave  Miss  Lou  his 
arm  and  led  her  away.  When  so  distant  as  to  be  unob- 
served, he  said  in  strong  emphasis,  "Miss  Baron,  I  take 
off  my  hat  to  you.  Not  to  a  princess  would  I  pay  such 
homage  as  to  the  woman  who  could  wake  the  feeling  with 
which  these  poor  people  regard  you." 

She  blushed  with  the  deepest  pleasure  of  her  life,  for  she 
had  been  repressed  and  reprimanded  so  long  that  words  of 
encouragement  and  praise  were  very  sweet.  But  she  only 
said  with  a  laugh,  "Oh,  come;  don't  turn  my  poor  bewil- 
dered head  any  more  to-night.  I'm  desperately  anxious  to 
have  uncle  and  aunt  think  I'm  a  very  mature  young  woman, 
but  I  know  better  and  so  do  you.  Why,  even  Uncle 
Lusthah  made  me  cry  like  a  child." 

"Well,  his  words  about  you  brought  tears  to  my  eyes, 
and  so  there's  a  pair  of  us." 

"Oh!"  she  cried  delightedly,  giving  his  arm  a  slight 
pressure,  "I  didn't  know  that  you'd  own  up  to  that.  When 
I  saw  them  I  felt  like  laughing  and  crying  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. And  so  I  do  now — it's  so  delicious  to  be  free  and 
happy — to  feel  that  some  one  is  honestly  pleased  with  you. ' ' 

He  looked  upon  her  upturned  face,  still  dewy  from  emo- 
tion, and  wondered  if  the  moon  that  night  shone  on  a  fairer 

Roe— IX— G- 


146  ''MISS    LOV 

object  the  world  around.  It  was  indeed  the  face  of  a  glad, 
happy  child  no  longer  depressed  by  woes  a  few  hours  old, 
nor  fearful  of  what  the  next  hour  might  bring.  Her  look 
into  his  eyes  was  also  that  of  a  child,  full  of  unbounded 
trust,  now  that  her  full  confidence  was  won.  ' '  Yom  do  in- 
deed seem  like  a  lovely  child,  Miss  Baron,  and  old  Uncle 
Lusthah  told  the  whole  truth  about  you.  Those  simple 
folk  are  like  children  themselves  and  find  people  out  by 
intuition.  If  you  were  not  good- hearted  they  would  know 
it.     Well,  I'm  glad  I'm  not  old  myself." 

"But  you're  going  to  be  o\di— awful  old,"  she  replied, 
full  of  rippling  laughter.  "Oh,  wasn't  I  glad  to  hear  Uncle 
Lusthah  pray  over  you !  for  if  there  is  a  God  who  takes  any 
care  of  people,  you  will  live  to  be  as  gray  as  he  is. ' ' 

"If  there  is  a  God?" 

"Oh,  I'm  a  little  heathen.  I  couldn't  stand  uncle  or 
aunt's  God  at  all  or  believe  in  Him.  They  made  me  feel 
that  He  existed  just  to  approve  of  their  words  and  ways, 
and  to  help  them  keep  me  miserable.  When  I  hear  Uncle 
Lusthah  he  stirs  me  all  up  just  as  he  did  to-night;  but  then 
I've  always  been  taught  that  he's  too  ignorant — well,  I 
don't  know.  Uncle  and  aunt  made  an  awful  blunder,"  and 
here  she  began  to  laugh  again.  "There  is  quite  a  large 
library  at  the  house,  at  least  I  suppose  it's  large,  and  I  read 
and  read  till  I  was  on  the  point  of  rebellion,  before  you  and 
Cousin  Mad  came.  Books  make  some  things  clear  and  oth- 
ers so-o  puzzling.  I  like  to  hear  you  talk,  for  you  seem  so 
decided  and  you  know  so  much  more  than.  I  do.  Cousin 
Mad  never  read  much.  It  was  always  horse,  and  dog,  and 
gun  with  him.  How  I'm  running  on  and  how  far  I  am  from 
your  question!  But  it  is  such  a  new  thing  to  have  a  listener 
who  cares  and  understands.  Aun'  Jinkey  cares,  poor  soul! 
but  she  can  understand  so  little.  Lieutenant,  I  can  answer 
your  implied  question  in  only  one  way;  I  wish  to  know 
what  is  true.  Do  you  believe  there's  a  God  who  cares  for 
U3  as  Uncle  Lusthah  says?" 

"Yes." 


THE   JOY   OF   FREEDOM  147 

■i  *'  Well,  I'm  glad  you  do;  and  simply  saying  so  will  have 
more  weight  than  all  arguments. ' ' 

"Please  remember,  Miss  Baron,  I  haven't  said  that  I 
lived  up  to  my  faith.  It's  hard  to  do  this,  I  suppose,  in 
the  army.  Still  I've  no  right  to  any  excuses,  much  less 
to  the  unmanly  one  that  it's  hard.  What  if  it  is  ?  That's 
a  pretty  excuse  for  a  soldier.  Well,  no  matter  about  me, 
except  that  I  wish  you  to  know  that  with  all  my  mind  and 
heart  I  believe  that  there  is  a  good  God  taking  care  of 
a  good  girl  like  you.  Pardon  me  if  I  ask  another  question 
quite  foreign.  How  could  your  cousin  wish  to  marry  you 
if  you  do  not  love  him  ?' ' 

He  wondered  as  he  saw  the  child- like  look  pass  from  her 
face  and  her  brow  darken  into  a  frown.  "I  scarcely  know 
how  to  answer  you,"  she  said,  "and  I  only  understand 
vaguely  myself.  I  understand  better,  though,  since  I've 
known  you.  When  you  were  hiding  in  Aun'  Jinkey's 
cabin  you  looked  goodwill  at  me.  I  saw  that  you  were 
not  thinking  of  yourself,  but  of  me,  and  that  you  wished 
me  well.  I  feel  that  Cousin  Mad  is  always  thinking  of  him- 
self, that  his  professed  love  of  me  is  a  sort  of  self-love.  He 
gives  me  the  feeling  that  he  wants  me  for  his  own  sake,  not 
for  my  sake  at  all.  I  don't  believe  he'd  love  me  a  minute 
after  he  got  tired  of  me.  I'd  be  just  like  the  toys  he  used 
to  cry  for,  then  break  up.     I  won't  marry  such  a  man,  never ^ 

"You  had  better  not.  Hush!  We  are  approaching  a 
man  yonder  who  appears  anxious  to  hear  what  is  none 
of  his  business." 

They  had  been  strolling  slowly  back,  often  pausing  in 
the  deep  mutual  interest  of  their  conversation.  Miss  Lou 
now  detected  Perkins  standing  in  the  shadow  of  his  dwell- 
ing, between  the  mansion  and  the  quarters. 

"That's  the  overseer,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "How 
quick  your  eyes  are  I" 

"They  must  be  in  my  duty."  Then  he  directed  their 
steps  so  as  to  pass  near  the  man.  When  opposite,  he  turned 
his  eyes  suddenly  upon  Perkins'  face,  and  detected  such  a 


148  ''MISS   LOW 

scowl  of  hostility  and  hate  that  his  hand  dropped  instinc* 
ively  on  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  "Well,  sir,"  he  said, 
sternly,  "you  have  shown  your  disposition." 

"You  didn't  'spect  ter  find  a  friend,  I  reck'n,"  was  the 
surly  yet  confused  reply. 

"Very  well,  I  know  how  to  treat  such  bitter  enemies  as 
you  have  shown  yourself  to  be.  Officer  of  the  guard!"  A 
trooper  ran  forward  from  the  camp-fire  and  saluted.  "Put 
this  man  with  the  other  prisoners,  and  see  that  he  has  no 
communication  with  any  one." 

As  Perkins  was  marched  off  they  heard  him  mutter  a 
curse.  "Pardon  me,  Miss  Baron,"  Scoville  resumed.  "The 
lives  of  my  men  are  in  my  care,  and  that  fellow  would  mur- 
der us  all  if  he  had  a  chance.  I  don't  know  that  he  could 
do  any  harm,  but  it  would  only  be  from  lack  of  opportu- 
nity.    I  never  take  risks  that  I  can  help." 

"Having  seen  his  expression  I  can't  blame  you,"  was 
her  reply. 

A  new  train  of  thought  was  awakened  in  Scoville.  He 
pa,used  a  moment  and  looked  at  her  earnestly. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  ?"  she  asked. 

"Miss  Baron,  pardon  me,  but  I  do  wish  I  were  going  to 
be  here  longer,  or  rather,  I  wish  the  war  was  over.  I  fear 
there  are  deep  perplexities,  and  perhaps  dangers,  before 
you.  My  little  force  is  in  the  van  of  a  raiding  column 
which  will  pass  rapidly  through  the  country.  It  will  be 
here  to-morrow  morning,  but  gone  before  night,  in  all 
probability.  The  war  will  be  over  soon,  I  trust,  but  so 
much  may  happen  before  it  is.  You  inspire  in  me  such 
deep  solicitude.  I  had  to  tell  those  poor  negroes  that 
they  were  free.  So  they  would  be  if  within  our  lines. 
But  when  we  are  gone  that  overseer  may  be  brutal,  and 
the  slaves  may  come  again  to  you  for  protection.  That 
cousin  of  yours  may  also  come  again— oh,  it  puts  me  in  a 
sort  of  rage  to  think  of  leaving  you  so  unfriended.  You 
will  have  to  be  a  woman  in  very  truth,  and  a  brave,  circum- 
spect one,  too." 


THE   JOY   OF   FREEDOM  149 

**You  are  right,  sir,"  she  replied  with  dignity,  "and  you 
must  also  remember  that  I  will  be  a  Southern  woman.  I 
do  feel  most  friendly  to  you  personally,  but  not  to  your 
cause.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  acted  and  spoken  too  much 
like  a  child  to-night,  and  do  not  misunderstand  me.  Cir- 
cumstances have  brought  us  together  in  a  strange  way,  and 
while  1  live  I  shall  remember  you  with  respect  and  grati- 
tude. I  can  never  lose  the  friendly  interest  you  have  in- 
spired, and  I  can  never  think  of  the  North  as  I  hear  others 
speak  of  it;  but  I  belong  to  my  own  people,  and  I  should  be 
very  unhappy  and  humiliated  if  I  felt  that  I  must  continue 
to  look  to  an  enemy  of  my  country  for  protection.  I  can- 
not go  over  to  your  side  any  more  than  you  can  come  over 
to  ours." 

He  merely  sighed  in  answer. 

*'You  do  not  think  less"— and  then  she  paused  in  troubled 
silence. 

"Louise,"  called  Mrs.  Whately's  voice. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  girl,  "we  are  coming." 

"I  think  you  will  always  try  to  do  what  seems  right  to 
you.  Miss  Baron.  May  God  help  and  guide  you,  for  you 
may  have  trouble  of  which  you  little  dream.  What  you 
say  about  your  side  and  my  side  has  no  place  in  my 
thoughts.  I'll  help  settle  such  questions  with  soldiers. 
Neither  do  1  wish  to  be  officious,  but  there  is  something 
in  my  very  manhood  which  protests  against  a  fair  young 
girl  like  you  being  so  beset  with  troubles. ' ' 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said  earnestly.  "There  it  is  again. 
You  are  unselfishly  thinking  of  me,  and  that's  so  new. 
There's  no  use  of  disguising  it.  When  you  go  there'll  not 
be  one  left  except  Aun'  Jinkey  and  Uncle  Lusthah  who 
will  truly  wish  what's  best  for  me  without  regard  to  them- 
selves. Well,  it  can't  be  helped.  At  least  I  have  had  a 
warning  which  I  won't  forget." 

"But  Mrs.  Whateiy  seems  so  kindly — " 

"Hush!  I  see  uncle  coming.  She  would  sacrifice  her- 
self utterly  for  her  son,  and  do  you  think  she  would  spare  me?" 


150  ''MISS  LOU" 

Mr.  Baron's  fears  and  honest  sense  of  responsibility  led 
him  at  last  to  seek  his  niece.  In  doing  this  he  saw  Perkins 
under  guard.  Hastening  to  Scoville  he  demanded,  "What 
does  this  mean  ?  My  overseer  is  not  a  combatant, 
sir." 

"Mr.  Baron,"  replied  the  officer,  "have  you  not  yet 
learned  that  I  am  in  command  on  this  plantation?" 

Poor  Mr.  Baron  lost  his  temper  again  and  exploded  most 
unwisely  in  the  words,  "Well,  sir,  my  niece  is  not  under 
your  command.  You  had  no  right  to  take  her  from  the 
house  without  my  permission.  I  shall  report  you  to  your 
superior  officer  to-morrow." 

"I  hope  you  will,  sir." 

"1  also  protest  against  the  treatment  of  my  overseer." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

"You  will  please  release  my  niece's  arm  and  leave  us  to 
ourselves,  as  you  promised. ' ' 

"No,  sir,  I  shall  escort  Miss  Baron  back  to  Mrs.  Whately, 
from  whom  I  obtained  the  honor  of  her  society. ' ' 

"Louise,  I  command" — Mr.  Baron  began,  almost  chok- 
ing with  rage. 

"No,  uncle,"  replied  the  girl,  "you  command  me  no 
more.  Bequest  me  politely,  and  I  will  shake  hands  with 
Lieutenant  Scoville,  thank  him  for  his  courtesy  to  me  and 
to  us  all,  and  then  go  with  you. ' ' 

The  old  man  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  back  to  the 
house  without  a  word. 

"Bravo!"  whispered  Scoville,  but  he  felt  her  hand 
tremble  on  his  arm.  "That's  your  true  course,"  he  added. 
"Insist  on  the  treatment  due  your  age,  act  like  a  lady,  and 
you  will  be  safe." 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Whately  tried  to  say  politely,  "have  not 
you  young  people  taken  an  ell?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Whately,"  Scoville  replied  gravely.  "We 
have  not  taken  a  step  out  of  our  way  between  here  and  the 
quarters,  although  we  have  lingered  in  conversation.  We 
have  ever  been  in  plain  sight  of  many  of  your  people.     I 


THE   JOY   OF   FREEDOM  151 

put  the  overseer  under  arrest  because  I  had  absolute  proof 
of  his  malicious  hostility.  I  shall  inflict  no  injury  on  any 
one  who  does  not  threaten  to  be  dangerous  to  my  command, 
my  duty  requiring  that  I  draw  the  line  sharply  there.  Mrs. 
Whately,  I  have  never  met  a  young  lady  who  inspired  in 
me  more  honest  respect.  If  we  have  trespassed  on  your 
patience,  the  blame  is  mine.  Ladies,  I  thank  you  for  your 
courtesy  and  wish  you  good-night,"  and  he  walked  rapidly 
away. 

"Aunty,"  said  Miss  Lou,  "you  have  begun  to  treat  me 
in  a  way  which  would  inspire  my  love  and  confidence." 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  am  sorely  perplexed.  If  we  yield  in 
minor  points,  you  should  in  vital  ones,  and  trust  to  our 
riper  experience  and  knowledge." 

The  distractions  of  the  day  had  practically  robbed  Mr. 
Baron  of  all  self-control,  and  he  now  exclaimed,  "I  yield 
nothing.  As  your  guardian  I  shall  maintain  my  rights  and 
live  up  to  my  sense  of  responsibility.  If  by  wild,  reckless 
conduct  you  thwart  my  efforts  in  your  behalf,  my  re- 
sponsibility ceases.  I  can  then  feel  that  I  have  done  my 
best." 

"And  so,  uncle,  you  would  be  quite  content,  no  matter 
what  became  of  me,"  added  the  girl  bitterly.  "Well,  then, 
I  tell  you  to  your  face  that  you  cannot  marry  me,  like  a 
slave  girl,  to  whom  you  please.  I'll  die  first.  I  shall  have 
my  girlhood,  and  then,  as  woman,  marry  or  not  marry,  as  I 
choose.  Aunty,  I  appeal  to  you,  as  a  woman  and  a  lady,  to 
stop  this  wretched  folly  if  you  can." 

"Louise,"  said  her  aunt,  kindly,  "as  long  as  I  have  a 
home  it  shall  be  a  refuge  to  you.  I  hope  the  morrow  will 
bring  wiser  counsels  and  better  moods  to  us  all." 

The  mansion  soon  became  quiet,  and  all  slept  in  the 
weariness  of  reaction.  No  sound  came  from  the  darkened 
dwelling  except  an  occasional  groan  from  one  of  the  wounded 
men  on  the  piazza.  Scoville,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  lay 
down  by  the  fire  with  his  men  and  was  asleep  almost  in- 
stantly.   The  still  shadows  on  the  dewy  grass  slowly  turned 


152  ''MISS   LOU" 

toward  the  east  as  the  moon  sank  low.  To  the  last,  its 
beams  glinted  on  the  weapons  of  vigilant  sentinels  and 
vedettes,  and  the  only  warlike  sounds  occurred  at  the  re- 
lief of  guards.  All  rested  who  could  rest  except  one — the 
overseer.  Eestless,  vindictive,  he  watched  and  listened  till 
morning. 


A    WELL-AIMED   SLIPPER  153 


CHAPTEB   XVIII 

A   WELL-AIMED   SLIPPER 

IT  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a  morning  more  lovely,  a 
more  perfect  type  of  peace  and  good-will,  than  the  one 
which  dawned  over  The  Oaks  plantation  the  following 
day.  With  the  light  came  fragrant  zephyrs  of  delicious 
coolness;  the  stillness  of  the  night  gave  place  to  a  slight 
stir  and  rustle  of  foliage;  chanticleers  crowed  lustily,  with 
no  forebodings  of  their  doom;  the  horses  began  to  whinny 
for  their  breakfasts,  and  the  negroes  to  emerge  from  their 
quarters  to  greet  the  light  of  this  first  fair  day  of  freedom. 
Uncle  Lusthah  declared  "De  millenyum  yere  shol"  Smoke 
rose  from  Aun'  Jinkey's  chimney,  and  after  the  pone  was 
baking  on  the  hearth  she  came  out  on  the  doorstep  with  her 
pipe  to  do  a  little  Vprojeckin'."  Even  she  was  impressed 
with  the  beauty  and  peaceful ness  of  the  morning.  ''En  ter 
tink,"  she  ejaculated,  "my  honey's  sleepin'  lak  a  lil  chile 
'stead  ob  cryin'  en  wringin'  her  han's  nobody  know  whar! 
Wen  dey  gits  ter  mar' in'  my  honey  en  she  a  bleatin'  en  a 
tremlin'  like  a  lamb  'long  a  wolf  dat  lickin'  he  chops  ober 
her,  den  I  say  hit's  time  fer  a  smash  up.  Marse  Scoville 
look  lak  he  'tect  her  gin  de  hull  worl'." 

So  thought  Miss  Lou  herself.  In  her  weariness  and 
sense  of  security  she  had  slept  soundly  till  the  light  grew 
distinct,  when  the  birds  wakened  her.  With  consciousness 
memory  quickly  reproduced  what  had  occurred.  She  sprang 
to  the  window  and  peeped  through  the  blinds  in  time  to  see 
Scoville  rise  from  his  bivouac  and  throw  aside  his  blanket. 
With  a  soldier's  promptness  he  aroused  his  men  and  began 


154  ''MISS    LOW 

giving  orders,  the  tenor  of  one  being  that  a  scouting  party- 
should  prepare  to  go  out  immediately. 

''Oh!"  she  sighed,  "if  I  had  such  a  brother  what  a 
happy  girl  I  might  be!  I  don't  believe  I'd  ever  care  to 
marry. ' ' 

She  was  far  from  being  a  soft-natured,  susceptible  girl, 
and  while  Scoville  kindled  her  imagination  and  had  won 
her  trust,  sbe  did  not  think  of  him  as  a  lover.  Indeed,  the 
very  word  had  become  hateful  to  her,  associating  it  as  she 
did  with  her  cousin  and  the  idea  of  selfish  appropriation. 
More  strongly  than  any  slave  on  the  plantation,  she  longed 
for  freedom,  and  the  belief  that  the  Union  officer  understood 
her,  respecting  her  rigbts  and  feelings,  won  him  all  the  favor 
she  was  then  capable  of  bestowing  upon  any  one.  If  he  had 
employed  his  brief  opportunity  in  gallantry  and  love-mak- 
ing she  would  have  been  disgusted.  "I  never  met  any  one 
like  him,"  she  soliloquized  as  she  hastily  dressed.  "It's  so 
strange  to  find  one  willing  I  should  be  a  little  bit  happy  in 
my  own  way,  who  is  not  'seeking  my  best  welfare,'  as  uncle 
says.  Welfare,  indeed!  As  if  I  couldn't  see  some  wish  or 
scheme  of  their  own  back  of  all  they  say  or  do !  His  dark 
eyes  declare,  'I  wish  you  well  whether  you  are  useful  to  me 
or  not.'  Well,  I  am  glad  I've  known  him,  whether  I  ever 
see  him  again  or  not.    He  has  made  my  course  much  clearer. ' ' 

The  inmates  of  the  mansion  as  well  as  those  without  were 
soon  busy  in  their  preparations  for  a  day  which  all  felt  must 
be  eventful.  That  the  "millenyum"  had  not  come  was  soon 
proved  by  the  commencement  of  hostilities  on  the  part  of 
Mrs.  Baron  and  Scoville.  The  latter  was  approaching  the 
kitchen  to  interview  Aun'  Suke  when  "ole  miss"  appeared. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  lifting  his  hat,  "will  you  kindly  di- 
rect your  cook  to  prepare  a  breakfast  immediately  for  the 
wounded?  It  should  be  light  as  well  as  nutritious,  for 
some  are  feverish." 

She  paid  no  more  attention  to  him  than  if  he  had  not 
spoken,  and  entered  Aun'  Suke's  domain.  There  was  a 
mirthful  flash  in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  followed  her.     When 


A    WELL-AIMED    SLIPPER  155 

she  saw  him  standing  in  the  doorway,  her  cold  stare,  more 
clearly  than  words,  designated  him  "intruder."  He  stead- 
ily returned  her  gaze,  and  Aun'  Suke,  who  had  been  shout- 
ing over  freedom  the  night  before,  now  had  the  temerity  to 
quiver  in  all  her  vast  proportions  with  amusement. 

"Madam,"  resumed  Scoville,  removing  his  hat,  "will 
you  give  my  orders,  or  shall  I?" 

"Your  orders,  sir!  and  in  my  kitchen!" 

"Certainly,  madam,  and  my  orders  in  this  instance  are 
simply  the  dictates  of  humanity." 

"1  will  see  that  our  men  are  well  cared  for.  I  am  not 
responsible  for  the  others." 

"But  I  am,  and  all  must  fare  alike.  Cook,  prepare  a 
nice  light  breakfast  for  all  the  wounded  men  before  you  do 
anything  else." 

"Yes,  mars' r,  I  'bey  you,  I  sut'ny  will." 

Scoville  strode  away  to  attend  to  other  duties.  Mrs. 
Baron  glared  after  him  and  then  at  Aun'  Suke,  who  at 
once  began  her  work. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you'll  take  no  more  orders 
from  me?"  the  old  lady  asked,  in  tones  of  suppressed 
anger. 

"Kyant  do  mo'  'n  one  ting  ter  oncet.  Ob  co'se  I  git  yo' 
breakfas'  when  I  kin.  Reck'n  dough  we  soon  hab  ter  dis- 
ergree  on  my  wages.     I'se  a  free  ooman." 

"Oh,  you  are  free  and  I  am  not.  That's  the  new  order 
of  things  your  Yankee  friends  would  bring  about." 

"La  now,  misus,"  said  matter-of-fact  Aun'  Suke,  again 
shaking  with  mirth  at  the  idea,  "you  got  mo'  edication  'n 
me.  Wat  de  use  bein'  blin'  des  on  puppose?  Spose  you 
en  ole  mars' r  tell  me  dat  ain'  a  egg"  (holding  one  up):  "ky- 
ant I  see  ?  Hit's  broad  sun-up.  Why  not  des  look  at  tings 
ez  dey  iz  ?  Sabe  a  heap  ob  trouble.  Yere,  you  lil  niggahs, 
hep  right  smart  or  you  neber  get  yo'  breakfas'." 

Mrs.  Baron  went  back  to  the  house  looking  as  if  the  end 
of  the  world  had  come  instead  of  the  millennium. 

In  the  hall  she  met  her  husband  and  Mrs.  Whately,  to 


156  *'M1SS  LOU'* 

whom  slie  narrated  what  had  occurred.  Mr.  Baron  had 
settled  down  into  a  sort  of  sullen  endurance,  and  made  no 
answer,  but  Mrs.  Whately  began  earnestly:  "Our  very 
dignity  requires  that  we  have  no  more  collisions  with  a 
power  we  cannot  resist.  Even  you,  sister,  must  now  see 
that  you  gain  nothing  and  change  nothing.  We  can  be 
merely  passive  in  our  hostility.  The  only  course  possible 
for  us  is  to  endure  this  ordeal  patiently  and  then  win  Louise 
over  to  our  wishes." 

Miss  Lou,  who  was  dusting  the  parlor,  stole  to  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  apartment  and  rattled  some  ornaments  to 
warn  them  of  her  presence.  She  smiled  bitterly  as  she  mut- 
tered, "Our  wishes;  mine  will  never  be  consulted." 

Mrs.  Whately  entered  the  parlor  and  kissed  her  niece 
affectionately.  She  did  not  like  the  girl's  expression  and 
the  dif&culty  of  her  task  grew  clearer.  Nevertheless,  her 
heart  was  more  set  on  the  marriage  than  ever  before,  since 
her  motives  had  been  strengthened  by  thought.  That  her 
son  was  bent  upon  it  was  one  of  the  chief  considerations. 
"If  I  obtain  for  him  this  prize,"  she  had  reasoned,  "he 
must  see  that  there  is  no  love  like  a  mother's." 

Miss  Lou,  also,  had  been  unconsciously  revealing  her 
nature  to  the  sagacious  matron,  who  felt  the  girl,  if  won, 
would  not  become  a  pretty  toy,  soon  wearying  her  son  by 
insipidity  of  character.  "I  know  better,"  the  lady  thought, 
"than  to  agree  with  brother  and  sister  that  Louise  is  merely 
wilful  and  perverse."  Feeling  that  she  was  incapable  of 
controlling  her  son,  she  would  be  glad  to  delegate  this  task 
to  the  one  who  had  the  most  influence  over  him  and  who 
best  promised  to  maintain  it  She  was  not  so  blind  in  her 
indulgence  as  helpless  in  it  from  long  habit.  She  thought 
that  as  a  wife  the  girl  would  not  only  hold  her  own,  but 
also  do  much  toward  restraining  her  son  in  his  wild  tenden- 
cies; but  she  gave  no  weight  to  the  consideration  often  in 
Miss  Lou's  mind,  "I  do  not  see  why  everything  and  every- 
body should  exist  for  Cousin  Mad's  benefit." 

Mrs.  Whately  secretly  approved  of  Sooville's  orders  in 


A    WELL-AIMED   SLIPPER  157 

regard  to  the  wounded,  but  did  not  so  express  herself,  re- 
solving not  to  come  into  collision  again  with  her  relatives 
unless  it  was  essential.  She  now  went  out  and  assisted  the 
surgical  trooper  in  dressing  the  men's  injuries.  Miss  Lou 
had  learned  that  breakfast  would  be  delayed,  and  so  de- 
cided to  satisfy  her  hunger  partially  at  Aun'  Jinkey's 
cabin.  The  excitements  of  the  preceding  day  had  robbed 
her  of  all  appetite,  but  now  she  was  ravenous.  Her  estrange- 
ment from  her  uncle  and  aunt  was  so  great  that  she  avoided 
them,  having  a  good  deal  of  the  child's  feeling,  "1  won't 
speak  till  they  make  up  first. ' ' 

The  old  negress  heard  her  rapid  steps  and  looked  out 
from  her  door.  *'0h,  mammy,"  cried  the  girl,  *'l'm  that 
hungry  I  could  almost  eat  you,  and  I  don't  know  when  we'll 
have  breakfast. ' ' 

'*  You  des  in  time,  den,  honey.     Come  right  in." 

But  Miss  Lou  paused  at  the  door  in  embarrassment,  for 
Scoville  had  risen  from  the  table  and  was  advancing  to  meet 
her.  "Good- morning.  Miss  Baron,"  he  said.  ** Aunt  Jinkey 
and  Chunk  have  prepared  me  a  capital  breakfast,  and  I 
should  be  only  too  delighted  to  share  it.  I  must  be  in  the 
saddle  soon  and  so  availed  myself  of  the  first  chance  for 
a  meal.  Please  do  not  hesitate,  for  it  will  probably  be  my 
only  opportunity  of  saying  good-  by, ' ' 

"Dar  now,  honey,  sit  right  down.  Ef  Marse  Scoville 
ain'  quality  den  I  doan  know  um." 

"Miss  Baron,"  cried  Scoville,  laughing,  ** Aunt  Jinkey 
has  raised  a  point  now  which  you  alone  can  settle — the 
question  of  my  quality." 

"About  the  same  as  my  own,  I  reckon,"  said  the  girl, 
sitting  down  with  rosy  cheeks.  "Aun'  Jinkey  is  evidently 
your  ally,  for  she  has  put  her  invitation  in  a  form  which 
I  could  not  decline  without  hurting  the  feelings  of — " 

"Your  sincere  and  grateful  friend,"  interrupted  the 
officer. 

"Uncle  and  aunt  would  think  I  was  committing  an 
unheard-of  indiscretion." 


158  *'MISS   LOU" 

"But  are  you?'* 

"I'm  too  hungry  to  discuss  the  question  now,"  she  an- 
swered, laughing.  "Do  let  us  hasten,  for  such  old  friends 
should  not  part  with  their  mouths  full." 

' '  W  ell,  hit  des  does  my  ole  heart  good  ter  see  you  sittin* 
dar,  Miss  Lou.  I'se  po'ful  glad  yo'  mouf's  full  ob  break- 
fas'  en  dat  yo'  eyes  ain'  full  ob  tears.  Wat  we  projeckin' 
'bout  yistidy  ?" 

,  "Now,  Aun'  Jinkey,  just  keep  still.  I  can't  show  be- 
coming sentiment  on  any  subject  except  pones  and  such 
coffee  as  I  have  not  tasted  for  a  long  time." 

"Hit  Yankee  coffee." 

"I  drink  your  health  in  my  one  contribution,"  cried 
Scoville.  "Never  mind,  aunty,  we'll  be  jolly  over  it  all 
the  same.  I  agree  with  you.  It's  worth  a  month's  pay  to 
see  Miss  Baron  happy  and  hungry.  I'd  like  to  know  who 
has  a  better  right.  Aunt  Jinkey's  told  me  how  you  pro- 
tected her.     That  was  fine.     You'd  make  a  soldier." 

"Oh,  please  stop  such  talk,  both  of  you.  I'm  ridicu- 
lously unlike  the  heroines  in  uncle's  library.  Lieutenant, 
please  don't  say  'Ha!  the  hour  has  come  and  we  must  part, 
perhaps  forever.'  I  won't  have  any  forever.  Uncle  Lus- 
thah  has  insured  you  gray  hairs,  and  if  you  don't  come  and 
see  us  before  they're  gray,  Aun'  Jinkey  and  I  will  believe 
all  uncle  says  about  the  Yankees." 

"And  so  you  ought,"  said  Scoville.  "Oh,  I'll  come 
back  to  breakfast  with  you  again,  if  I  have  to  come  on 
crutches.  Well,  I  must  go.  There  is  Chunk  with  the 
horses.  Even  now  I'm  keeping  one  ear  open  for  a  shot 
from  that  hasty  cousin  of  yours." 

At  this  reference  she  looked  grave  and  rose  from  the 
table.  "Lieutenant,"  she  said,  taking  his  proffered  hand, 
"please  do  not  think  me  a  giddy  child  nor  an  unfeeling 
girl.  I  do  thank  you.  I  do  wish  you  well  just  as  you  wish 
me  well — for  your  own  sake.  Oh,  it  seems  such  a  blessed 
thing  for  people  to  feel  simple,  honest  goodwill  toward  one 
another,  without  having  some  scheme  back  of  it  all." 


A    WELL-AIMED    SLIPPER  159 

**Well,  Miss  Baron,  if  I  had  a  chance  I'd  soon  prove 
that  I  too  had  a  scheme.  The  chief  point  in  it  would  be 
to  keep  all  trouble  out  of  the  eyes  that  looked  on  me  so 
kindly  when  I  came  to  my  senses  in  this  cabin.  Heaven 
bless  your  good,  kind  heart!    Promise  me  one  thing.'* 

*'Well?" 

**lf  your  cousin  comes  soon  there  may  be  a  sharp  fight. 
Keep  out  of  danger.  I  could  never  be  myself  again  if  my 
coming  here  should  result  in  injury  to  you." 

**As  far  as  my  curiosity  will  permit  I  will  try  to  keep 
out  of  the  way.  I've  seen  so  little  in  my  short  life  that 
I  must  make  the  most  of  this  brief  opportunity.  In  a  day 
or  so  you  may  all  be  gone,  and  then  the  old  humdrum  life 
will  begin  again." 

**Yes,  we  may  all  be  gone  before  night.  Your  chief 
danger  then  will  be  from  the  stragglers  which  follow  the 
army  like  vultures.  If  possible,  I  will  induce  the  general 
to  leave  a  guard  to-night  I  wish  Mr.  Baron  had  a  clearer 
eye  to  his  interests  and  safety.  The  general  is  not  lamb- 
like. If  a  guard  can  be  procured  for  to-night  it  will  be  due 
to  your  action  and  my  representations.  My  services  as  a 
scout  have  brought  me  in  rather  close  contact  with  the 
general,  and  possibly  I  may  induce  him  to  give  protection 
as  long  as  the  interest  of  the  service  permits.  All  questions 
will  be  decided  with  reference  to  the  main  chance;  so,  if  I 
seem  neglectful,  remember  I  must  obey  my  orders,  whatever 
they  are.     Ah!  there's  a  shot." 

Her  hand  ached  long  afterward  from  his  quick,  strong 
pressure,  and  then  he  mounted  and  was  away  at  a  gallop. 
Miss  Lou  hastily  returned  to  the  house,  but  Chunk  coolly 
entered  the  cabin,  saying,  **I'se  git  a  bite  fer  mebbe  I  ain' 
y ere  ter  dinner. ' ' 

"Eeck'n  you  better  be  skerce.  Chunk,  ef  Mad  Whately 
comes,'*  said  his  grandmother,  trembling. 

**I  knows  des  w'at  ter  'spect  fum  Mad  Whately  en  fum 
dat  ar  oberseer  too,  but  dey  fin'  me  a  uggly  ole  hornet.  I 
got  my  sting  han'y,"  and  he  tapped  the  butt  of  a  revolver 


160  ''MISS    LOU"" 

in  the  breast  of  his  coat.     Having  devoured  the  remnants 
of  the  breakfast  he  darted  out  and  mounted  his  horse  also. 

Mad  Whately  was  coming  sure  enough,  and  like  a  whirl- 
wind. He  had  fallen  in  with  the  van  of  the  Confederate  ad- 
vance during  the  night,  and  by  his  representations  had 
induced  an  early  and  forced  march  to  The  Oaks.  The 
vigilant  Scoville,  with  his  experiences  as  a  scout  fresh  in 
his  mind,  had  foreseen  this  possibility.  He  had  two  plans 
in  his  mind  and  was  ready  to  act  upon  either  of  them. 

Eushing  through  the  hallway  of  the  mansion  from  the 
rear  entrance,  Miss  Lou  found  her  kindred  on  the  veranda. 
They  were  too  excited  and  eager  to  ask  where  she  had 
been,  for  the  fierce  rebel  yell  had  already  been  raised  at 
the  entrance  of  the  avenue. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Baron,  "now  we'll  see  this  Yankee 
scum  swept  away. ' ' 

Apparently  he  would  have  good  reason  for  his  exulta- 
tion. Scoville  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  fight  blindly, 
and  Miss  Lou  kept  her  eyes  on  him.  As  he  sat  on  his  horse, 
where  he  commanded  the  best  view  of  the  advancing  enemy, 
she  thought  he  appeared  wonderfully  quiet.  Not  so  his 
men.  They  were  galloping  to  the  right  of  the  mansion, 
where  there  was  a  grove  on  rising  ground  which  formed  a 
long  ridge  stretching  away  to  the  northwest.  It  can  readily 
be  guessed  that  it  was  Scoville's  aim  not  to  be  cut  off  from 
the  main  Union  column  by  a  superior  force,  and  the  ridge 
would  enable  him  to  see  his  enemy  before  he  fought,  if  he 
should  deem  it  wise  to  fight  at  all.  He  knew  that  his  horses 
were  fresh.  If  those  of  the  attacking  party  were  somewhat 
blown  he  could  easily  keep  out  of  the  way  if  it  were  too 
strong  to  cope  with.  He  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the 
sergeant  commanding  the  scouting  party  recently  sent  out, 
and  pointed  to  the  grove  with  his  sabre,  then  slowly  fol- 
lowed with  his  eye  on  the  enemy. 

Miss  Lou  was  in  a  fever  of  apprehension  in  his  behalf, 
for  already  shots  were  fired  at  him  from  the  Confederates. 
Suddenly  she  heard  the  click  of  a  musket  lock  just  beneath 


A    WELL-AIMED   SLIPPER  161 

her,  and,  looking  down,  saw  Perkins  levelling  a  piece  at 
Scoville.  Quick  as  light  she  drew  o£E  her  slipper  and 
dashed  it  into  the  man's  face  as  he  fired.  By  reason  of  his 
disconcerted  aim  the  bullet  flew  harmlessly  by  the  Union 
officer,  who  gave  a  quick,  stern  glance  toward  his  assailant, 
recognized  him,  and  galloped  after  his  men. 

*' You  vile  murderer!'*  cried  Miss  Lou,  '* would  you  shoot 
a  man  in  his  back?" 

"Oh,  come,  Perkins,  that's  hardly  the  thing,  no  matter 
what  your  provocation,"  Mr.  Baron  added. 

Perkins  bestowed  a  malignant  glance  on  Miss  Lou,  then 
limped  away,  wearing  a  sullen  look.  The  officer  in  com- 
mand of  the  Confederates  sheered  off  across  the  lawn  toward 
the  grove,  and  the  girl  quickly  saw  that  his  force  greatly 
outnumbered  that  of  Scoville.  Mad  Whately  dashed  up  to 
the  piazza  steps  and  asked  breathlessly,  '*  Are  you  all  safe  ?" 

**Yes,"  cried  his  mother.  ** Thank  God!  I  see  you  are 
safe  also." 

He  turned  his  eyes  on  his  cousin,  but  in  her  cold,  steady 
gaze  found  no  encouragement.  With  something  like  an 
oath,  he  turned  and  galloped  after  the  attacking  force. 

But  Scoville  did  not  wait  to  be  attacked.  He  continued 
with  his  men  along  the  ridge,  retreating  rapidly  when 
pressed,  pausing  when  pursuit  slackened.  The  officer  in 
command  soon  remarked  to  Whately,  ''We  are  using  up 
our  horses  to  no  purpose,  and  we  shall  need  them  for  more 
important  work  later  in  the  day." 

Therefore  he  sounded  recall  and  retired  on  the  mansion, 
Scoville  following,  thus  proving  that  he  was  governed  by 
other  motives  than  fear.  Indeed,  he  was  in  a  very  genial 
frame  of  mind.  He  had  got  all  his  men  off  safely,  except 
two  or  three  laggards,  and  had  already  sent  swift  riders 
to  inform  his  general  of  the  situation.  Knowing  that  the 
tables  would  soon  be  turned,  he  was  quite  content  that  he 
had  not  made  an  obstinate  and  useless  resistance.  "What's 
more,"  he  thought,  "Miss  Lou  would  not  have  kept  out  of 
danger.     It  isn't  in  her  nature  to  do  so.     Miss  Lou!  I  wish 


162  ''MISS  LOW 

I  might  call  her  that  some  day  and  then  drop  the  Miss. 
One  thing  is  clear.  If  1  meet  that  cousin  again,  he'll  show 
me  no  quarter.  So  I  must  look  out  for  him  and  that  assas- 
sin of  an  overseer,  too.  She  called  him  by  his  right  name, 
the  brave  little  girl !  No  need  of  asking  me  to  come  back, 
for  I'd  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  see  her  again." 

If  he  had  know  how  her  presence  of  mind  and  swift  ac- 
tion had  in  all  probability  saved  his  life,  his  feelings  would 
have  been  far  more  vivid,  while  his  belief  in  the  luck  of 
throwing  an  old  shoe  would  have  become  one  of  the  tenets 
of  his  faith.  Miss  Lou  went  after  the  extemporized  missile 
and  put  it  on  again,  saying,  "I  have  fired  my  first  and  last 
shot  in  this  war." 

"It  is  indeed  becoming  doubtful  on  which  side  you  are," 
answered  her  uncle  sternly. 

"I'm  not  on  the  side  of  that  wretch  Perkins.  Suppose 
he  had  succeeded,  and  Lieutenant  Scoville's  general  came 
here,  what  mercy  could  we  expect  ?  If  Perkins  values  his 
life  he  had  better  not  be  caught." 

"I  am  glad  indeed,  Louise,  that  you  prevented  such  a 
thing  from  happening,"  said  Mrs.  Whately.  "The  result 
might  have  been  very  disastrous,  and  in  any  event  would 
have  been  horrible.  It  was  a  brave,  sensible  thing  to  do, 
and  you  will  find  that  Madison  will  think  so,  too." 

Mad  Whately,  however,  was  in  anything  but  a  judicial 
mood. 


A    GIRL'S   APPEAL  163 


M 


CHAPTER   XIX 

A    girl's    appeal 

ISS  LOU  was  too  well  acquainted  with  her  cousin  not 
to  recognize  evidences  of  almost  ungovernable  rage 
during  the  brief  moment  he  had  paused  at  the  ve- 
randa. She  looked  signiticantly  at  his  mother,  whose  face 
was  pale  and  full  of  an  apprehension  now  uncalled  for, 
since  the  prospect  of  an  immediate  battle  had  passed  away. 
"She  is  afraid  of  him  herself,  her  own  son,  and  yet  she 
would  marry  me  to  him,"  the  girl  thought  bitterly. 

Miss  Lou  was  mistaken.  Her  aunt  had  fears  only  for 
her  son,  knowing  how  prone  he  was  to  rash,  headlong  ac- 
tion when  almost  insane  from  passion.  The  girl,  however, 
was  elated  and  careless.  She  justly  exulted  in  the  act  by 
which  she  had  baffled  the  vengeance  of  Perkins,  and  she 
had  ceased  to  have  the  anxieties  of  a  bitter  Southern  par- 
tisan. Such  she  would  have  been  but  for  her  alienation 
from  those  identified  with  the  cause.  She  was  capable  of 
the  most  devoted  loyalty,  but  to  whom  should  she  give  it? 
If  a  loving  father  or  brother  had  been  among  the  Confed- 
erates, there  would  have  been  no  question.  Now  she  was 
sorely  perplexed  in  her  feelings,  for  the  South  was  repre- 
sented by  those  bent  upon  doing  her  a  wrong  at  which  her 
very  soul  revolted,  and  the  North  by  one  who  had  satisfied 
her  sense  of  right  and  justice,  who,  more  than  all,  had 
warmed  her  heart  by  kindness.  The  very  friendliness  of 
the  negroes  inclined  her  to  take  their  part  almost  involun- 
tarily, so  deep  was  the  craving  of  her  chilled  nature  for 
sympathy.  If  she  had  been  brought  up  in  loving  depend- 
ence she  would  not  have  been  so  well  equipped  for  the 


164  ''MISS   LOV" 

chaotic  emergency.  Having  no  hope  of  good  counsel  from 
natural  advisers,  she  did  not  waste  a  moment  in  seeking  it, 
or  weakly  hesitate  for  its  lack.  What  her  bright,  active 
mind  suggested  as  right  and  best,  that  she  was  ready  to  do 
instantly.  Now  that  she  had  gained  freedom  she  would 
keep  it  at  all  hazards. 

When  the  Confederate  officers  approached  the  house, 
she  was  glad  to  observe  that  her  cousin  was  not  chief  in 
command. 

Mr.  Baron  went  down  upon  the  lawn  to  meet  the  offi- 
cers, and,  after  a  brief  parley,  Major  Brockton,  the  senior 
in  command,  began  to  dispose  of  his  men  for  a  little  rest 
and  refreshment,  promising  to  join  the  family  soon  in  the 
dining-room.  Miss  Lou,  unasked,  now  aided  in  the  prep- 
arations for  the  morning  meal.  Fearing  Aun'  Sake  would 
get  herself  in  trouble,  she  ran  to  the  kitchen  and  told  the 
old  cook  to  comply  with  all  demands  as  best  she  could.  She 
had  scarcely  spoken  when  Mrs.  Baron  entered.  Casting  a 
severe  look  on  her  niece,  she  asked  Aun'  Suke,  "Will  you 
obey  me  now  ?  Will  you  tell  me  yon  are  a  free  woman 
now?" 

"My  haid  in  a  whirl  aready,  misus.  Ef  you  wants  me 
ter  I  kin  cook,  but  I  kyant  keep  track  ob  de  goin's  on." 

^  "1  can,"  replied  the  indomitable  old  lady,  "and  I  can 
keep  a  good  memory  of  the  behavior  of  all  on  the  planta- 
tion. ' ' 

"You  can't  govern  much  longer  by  fear,  aunt,"  said 
Miss  Lou.     "Had  you  not  better  try  a  little  kindness?" 

"What  has  been  the  result  of  all  the  years  of  kindness 
bestowed  upon  you?"  was  the  indignant  answer. 

"I  only  meant  that  it  might  be  well  to  bestow  a  little  of 
what  other  people  regard  as  kindness.  I  had  asked  Aun' 
Suke  to  do  her  best  and  am  sure  she  will." 

"It  will  be  strange  if  she  does,  when  you  are  setting  the 
example  of  doing  your  worst.  But  I  am  mistress  once  more, 
and  wish  no  interference." 

"Doan  you  worry,  honey,  'bout  we  uns,"  said  Aun'  Suke 


A    OIRUS    APPEAL  165 

quietly.  "We  yeard  de  soun'  fum  far  away,  en  we  year  it 
agin  soon." 

Meanwhile  Mad  Whately  was  closeted  with  his  uncle 
and  mother,  listening  with  a  black  frown  to  all  that  had 
occurred. 

"I  tell  you,"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  "it's  as  clear  as 
the  sun  in  the  sky  that  she  should  be  sent  away  at  once — in 
fact,  that  you  all  should  go." 

"I  won't  go,"  said  Mr.  Baron,  "neither  will  my  wife. 
If  the  country  has  come  to  such  a  pass  that  we  must  die 
on  our  hearths  we  will  die  right  here." 

"Then  with  my  whole  authority,  mother,  I  demand  that 
you  and  my  cousin  go  at  once  while  opportunity  still  re- 
mains. The  forces  on  both  sides  are  concentrating  here, 
and  this  house  may  soon  be  in  the  midst  of  a  battle.  Lou 
will  be  exposed  to  every  chance  of  war.  By  Heaven!  the 
girl  to  be  my  wife  shall  not  trifle  with  me  longer.  Oh, 
mother!  how  could  you  let  her  walk  and  talk  alone  with 
that  Yankee  officer  V" 

"I  tell  you  both  you  are  taking  the  wrong  course  with 
Louise,"  began  Mrs.  Whately. 

"You  never  spoke  a  truer  word,  auntie,"  said  Miss  Lou, 
entering. 

Stung  to  the  quick,  Whately  sprang  up  and  said  sternly, 
*'ln  this  emergency  i  am  the  head  of  my  family.  I  com- 
mand you  to  be  ready  within  an  hour  to  go  away  with  my 
mother.  Perkins  and  a  small  guard  will  go  with  you  to 
my  cousin's  house." 

' ' Go  away  with  that  cowardly  wretch,  Perkins  ?    Never !' ' 

"You  are  to  go  away  with  your  aunt  and  my  mother,  and 
you  cannot  help  yourself.  Your  readiness  to  receive  atten- 
tions from  a  miserable  Yankee  cub  shows  how  little  you  are 
to  be  trusted.  I  tell  you  for  the  honor  of  our  house  you 
shall  go  away.  I'd  shoot  you  rather  than  have  it  occur 
again. ' ' 

"You  silly,  spoiled,  passionate  boy!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Lou,  rendered  self- possessed  by  the  very  extravagance  of 


106  ''MISS    LOU'' 

her  cousin's  anger.  "Do  you  suppose  I  will  take  either 
command  or  counsel  from  one  who  is  beside  himself? 
Come,  Cousin  Mad,  cool  ofi,  or  you'll  have  some  more 
repenting  at  leisure  to  do." 

She  walked  quietly  out  of  the  room  to  the  veranda  just 
as  Major  Brockton  was  about  to  announce  himself. 

''Miss  Baron,  I  presume,"  he  said,  doffing  his  hat. 

"Yes,  sir.  Please  sit  down.  1  think  we  shall  soon  be 
summoned  to  breakfast.  If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst," 
«he  resolved,  "I  can  appeal  to  this  officer  for  protection." 

"Mother,"  said  Whately  in  a  choking  voice,  "be  ready 
to  go  the  moment  you  have  your  breakfast." 

His  passion  was  so  terrible  that  she  made  a  feint  of 
obeying,  while  he  rushed  out  of  the  rear  door.  Perkins 
readily  entered  into  the  plan,  and  gave  Whately  further 
distorted  information  about  Miss  Lou's  recent  interview 
with  Scoville.  Mrs.  Whately 's  horses  were  quickly  har- 
nessed to  her  carriage,  and  Perkins  drove  it  near  to  the 
back  entrance  to  the  mansion. 

As  Whately  entered,  his  mother  put  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  warned,  "Madison,  I  fear  you  are  all  wrong — " 

"Mother,  1  will  be  obeyed  at  once.  The  carriage  is 
ready.  My  own  men,  who  have  been  paroled,  will  act  as 
escort.     Lou  shall  go  if  taken  by  force." 

"Madison,  what  can  you  hope  from  a  wife  won  by  such 
violence?" 

"She  will  fear  and  obey  me  the  rest  of  her  life.  I'd 
rather  die  ten  thousand  deaths  than  be  balked  after  what 
she  has  said.  Come,  let's  go  through  the  form  of  break- 
fast and  then  I  shall  act." 

They  found  Miss  Lou  with  her  uncle,  aunt,  and  Major 
Brockton  already  at  the  table.  The  major  at  once  resumed 
his  condolences.  "I  am  very  sorry  indeed,"  he  said,  "that 
you  ladies  are  compelled  to  leave  your  home." 

"Do  you  think  it  wisest  and  best  that  we  should?"  asked 
Mrs.  Whately  quickly,  hoping  that  her  niece  would  feel  the 
force  of  the  older  officer's  decision. 


A    OIRUS    APPEAL  167 

"Yes,  madam,  1  do.  I  think  that  the  sooner  you  all  are 
south  of  our  advance  the  better.  It  is  possible  that  a  battle 
may  take  place  on  this  very  ground,  although  1  hope  not. 
As  soon  as  my  men  have  had  something  to  eat  I  shall  fol- 
low the  Yankees,  a  course  I  trust  that  will  bring  on  the 
action  elsewhere;  but  this  region  will  probably  become  one 
of  strife  and  turmoil  for  a  time.  It  won't  last  long,  how- 
ever, and  if  the  house  is  spared  I  think  you  can  soon  return." 

Mrs.  Baron  poured  the  coffee  and  then  excused  herself. 
A  few  moments  later  Miss  Lou,  who  was  very  observant, 
noted  a  significant  glance  from  Zany.  As  the  dusky  wait- 
ress started  ostensibly  for  the  kitchen,  the  young  girl  imme- 
diately followed.  Whately  hesitated  a  moment  or  two,  then 
left  the  breakfast  room  also.  But  Zany  had  had  time  to 
whisper: 

"Oh,  Miss  Lou,  Miss  Whately's  keridge's  at  de  do',  en 
Perkins  en  sogers  wid  it.     Ole  miss  in  yo'  room  en — " 

"Quit  that,"  said  Whately  in  a  low,  stern  voice,  and 
Zany  scuttled  away. 

"Now,  then,"  resumed  Whately  to  his  cousin,  "if  you 
have  any  dignity  or  sense  left,  get  ready  at  once.  I  can 
tell  you  that  I'm  far  past  being  trifled  with  now." 

"I'll  finish  my  breakfast  first,  if  you  please,"  was  the 
quiet  response,  so  quiet  that  he  was  misled,  and  imagined 
her  will  breaking  before  his  purpose. 

They  were  scarcely  seated  at  the  table  again  before  she 
startled  them  all  by  saying,  "Major  Brockton,  I  appeal  to 
you,  as  a  Southern  gentleman  and  a  Southern  officer,  for 
protection." 

"Why,  Miss  Baron!"  exclaimed  the  major,  "you  fairly 
take  away  my  breath." 

"Little  wonder,  sir.     I  have  had  mine  taken  away." 

"Louise,  you  are  insane  1"  cried  Mr.  Baron,  starting  up. 

"Major,  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  I  am  not  insane, 
that  I  have  perfect  self-control.  As  you  are  a  true  man  I 
plead  with  you  not  to  let  my  cousin  send  me  away.  He  can 
only  do  so  by  force,  but  I  plead  with  you  not  to  permit  it. 


168  ''MISS    LOW 

If  I  must  I  will  tell  you  all,  but  I'd  rather  not.  I  am  an 
orphan  and  so  have  sacred  claims  on  every  true  man,  and  I 
appeal  to  you.  I  do  not  fear  any  battle  that  may  be  fought 
here,  but  I  do  fear  being  sent  away,  and  with  good  reason. ' ' 

"Oh,  Louise!"  cried  Mrs.  Whately,  with  scarlet  face, 
'*you  place  us  in  a  horrible  position." 

"Not  in  so  horrible  a  one  as  I  have  been  placed,  and 
which  I  will  not  risk  again,  God  is  my  witness." 

Major  Brockton  looked  very  grave,  for  he  was  acquainted 
with  Whately' s  recklessness.  The  young  man  himself  was 
simply  speechless  from  rage,  but  Mr.  Baron  sprang  up  and 
said  sternly,  "You  shall  hear  the  whole  truth,  sir.  It  can 
be  quickly  told,  and  then  you  can  judge  whether  I,  as 
guardian,  am  capable  of  countenancing  anything  unwar- 
ranted by  the  highest  sense  of  honor.  This  girl,  my  niece, 
has  been  virtually  betrothed  to  her  cousin  since  childhood. 
I  and  her  aunts  deemed  it  wisest  and  safest,  in  view  of  dan- 
gers threatening  the  direst  evils,  that  she  should  be  married 
at  once  and  escorted  by  my  sister  and  her  son  to  the  house 
of  a  relative  residing  further  south.  First  and  last,  we  were 
considering  her  interests,  and  above  all,  her  safety.  That's 
all." 

"No,  it  is  not  all,"  cried  Miss  Lou,  with  a  passionate 
pathos  in  her  voice  which  touched  the  major's  heart. 
"Would  you,  sir,  force  a  girl,  scarcely  more  than  a  child, 
to  marry  a  man  when  you  knew  that  she  would  rather  die 
first?  Safety!  What  would  I  care  for  safety  after  the 
worst  had  happened  ?  I  will  not  be  married  like  a  slave 
girl.  I  will  not  go  away  to  Lieutenant  Whately's  relations 
unless  I  am  taken  by  force." 

"Great  God,  sir,  that  I  should  hear  a  Southern  girl  make 
such  an  appeal,"  said  Major  Brockton,  his  face  dark  with  in- 
dignation. "We  are  justly  proud  of  the  respect  we  show  to 
our  women,  and  who  more  entitled  to  respect  than  this  or- 
phan girl,  scarcely  more  than  a  child,  as  she  says  herself  ? 
Good  Heaven!  Whately,  could  you  not  have  protected 
your  cousin  as  you  would  your  sister  ?    You  say,  sir' '  (to 


A    QIRVS    APPEAL  169 

Mr.  Baron)  "that  slie  was  betrothed  from  childhood.  She 
didn't  betroth  herself  in  childhood,  did  she?  Believe  me, 
Miss  Baron,  no  one  has  the  power  to  force  you  into  mar- 
riage, although  your  kindred  should  use  all  means,  while 
you  are  so  young,  to  prevent  an  unworthy  alliance." 

"I  had  no  thought  of  marriage,  sir,  until  terrified  by  my 
cousin's  purpose  and  my  family's  urgency  but  a  day  since. 
I  am  willing  to  pay  them  all  respect  and  deference  if  they 
will  treat  me  as  if  I  had  some  rights  and  feelings  of  my 
own.  My  only  wish  is  a  little  of  the  freedom  which  I  feel 
a  girl  should  enjoy  when  as  old  as  1  am.  I  detest  and  fear 
the  man  whom  my  cousin  has  selected  to  take  me  away.  I 
do  not  fear  a  battle.  They  all  can  tell  you  that  I  stood  on 
the  piazza  when  bullets  were  flying.  I  only  ask  and  plead 
that  I  may  stay  in  such  a  home  as  I  have.  My  old  mam- 
my is  here  and — " 

"Well,"  ejaculated  the  major,  "have  you  no  stronger  tie 
than  that  of  a  slave  mammy  in  your  home?" 

"I  do  not  wish  to  be  unjust,  sir.  I  try  to  think  my  aunt 
and  uncle  mean  well  by  me,  but  they  can't  seem  to  realize 
that  I  have  any  rights  whatever.  As  for  my  cousin,  he  has 
always  had  what  he  wanted,  and  now  he  wants  me." 

"That  is  natural  enough;  but  let  him  win  you,  if  he  can, 
like  a  Southern  gentleman.  Lieutenant  Whately,  I  order 
you  to  your  duty.  Mr.  Baron,  if  you  wish  to  send  your 
ladies  away  and  go  with  them,  I  will  furnish  an  escort. 
Any  Southern  home  beyond  the  field  of  hostilities  will  be 
open  to  you.  Acquaint  me  with  your  decision,"  and  he 
bowed  and  strode  away. 

Even  the  most  prejudiced  and  blind  are  compelled  at 
times  by  an  unhesitating  and  impartial  opinion  to  see  things 
somewhat  in  their  true  light.  Long-cherished  purposes  and 
habits  of  thought  in  regard  to  Miss  Lou,  then  panic,  and 
strong  emotions  mixed  with  good  and  evil,  had  brought 
the  girl's  relatives  into  their  present  false  relations  to  her. 
After  the  scene  at  the  attempted  wedding,  Mrs.  Whately 
would  have  returned  to  safe  and  proper  ground,  hoping 

Roe— IX— H 


170  "MISS    LOU" 

Still  to  win  by  kindness  and  coaxing.  She  had  learned 
that  Miss  Lou  was  not  that  kind  of  girl,  who  more  or  less 
reluctantly  could  be  urged  into  marriage  and  then  make  the 
best  of  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  This  fact  only  made 
her  the  more  eager  for  the  union,  because  by  means  of  it 
she  hoped  to  secure  a  balance-wheel  for  her  son.  But  the 
blind,  obstinate  persistence  on  the  part  of  the  Barons  in 
their  habitual  attitude  toward  their  niece,  and  now  her 
son's  action,  had  placed  them  all  in  a  most  humiliating 
light.  Even  Mr.  Baron,  who  had  always  been  so  infallible 
in  his  autocratic  ways  and  beliefs,  knew  not  how  to  answer 
the  elderly  major.  Whately  himself,  in  a  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing common  to  his  nature,  felt  that  his  cousin  had  been 
right,  and  that  a  miserable  space  for  repentance  was  before 
him,  not  so  much  for  the  wrong  he  had  purposed,  as  for 
the  woful  unwisdom  of  his  tactics  and  their  ignominious 
failure.  His  training  as  a  soldier  led  him  to  obey  without 
a  word. 

Miss  Lou  was  magnanimous  in  her  victory.  "Cousin 
Madison,"  she  said  earnestly,  "why  don't  you  end  this 
wicked  nonsense  and  act  like  a  cousin?  As  such  1  have 
no  ill-will  toward  you,  but  I  think  you  and  uncle  must  now 
see  I'll  stop  at  nothing  that  will  keep  me  from  becoming 
your  wife.  There's  no  use  of  trying  to  make  me  think  I'm 
wrong  in  my  feelings,  for  I  now  believe  every  true  man 
would  side  with  me.  Be  my  cousin  and  friend  and  1  will 
give  you  my  hand  here  and  now  in  goodwill." 

But  his  anger  was  too  strong  to  permit  any  such  sensible 
action,  and  he  rushed  away  without  a  word. 

"Madison!"  called  his  mother.  "Oh,  I'm  just  over- 
whelmed," and  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Baron  in  a  sort  of  dreary  apathy,  "do 
you  and  Louise  wish  to  go  away  under  an  escort  furnished 
by  the  major  ?' ' 

"No,"  cried  Mrs.  Whately,  "I  would  accept  my  fate 
rather  than  favor  at  his  hands.     If  I  could  only  explain 


A    OIBVS   APPEAL  171 

to  him  more  fully — yet  how  can  I  ?  My  son,  with  all  his 
faults,  is  all  I  have  to  live  for.  I  shall  stay  near  him  while 
I  can,  for  he  will  be  reckless  to-day.  My  heart  is  just 
breaking  with  forebodings.  Oh,  why  couldn't  you,  with 
your  gray  hairs,  have  shown  a  little  wisdom  in  helping 
me  restrain  him  ?' ' 

*'I  reckon  the  restraining  should  have  been  practiced 
long  ago,"  replied  her  brother  irritably. 

"You  have  practiced  nothing  but  restraint  in  the  case  of 
Louise,  and  what  is  the  result  ?' ' 

The  girl  looked  at  them  wonderingly  in  their  abject  help- 
lessness, and  then  said,  "If  you  are  taking  it  for  granted 
that  I  am  spoiled  beyond  remedy,  I  can't  help  it.  I  would 
have  made  no  trouble  if  you  had  not  set  about  making  me 
trouble  without  end.  As  soon  as  I  can  I'll  go  away  and 
take  care  of  myself. " 

"Of  course,  Louise,"  said  Mrs.  Whately,  "we're  all 
wrong,  you  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us.  We  must  try  to  get 
this  snarl  untangled  and  begin  right.  The  idea  of  your 
going  away  I" 

"I  supposed  that  was  the  only  idea,"  said  Mrs.  Baron, 
entering.  "I,  at  least,  have  tried  to  remedy  our  niece's 
perverseness  by  getting  her  things  ready." 

Mrs.  Whately  wrung  her  hands  in  something  like  de- 
spair, while  Miss  Lou  burst  into  a  peal  of  half-nervous 
laughter  at  the  expression  on  her  uncle's  face.  "Well," 
she  said,  "there'll  be  no  more  trouble  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned unless  it's  of  your  own  making.  If  I  am  protected 
in  my  home,  I  shall  stay;  if  not,  I  shall  leave  it.  One 
learns  fast  in  such  ordeals  as  I  have  passed  through.  Aunt 
Sarah,  your  son  threatened  to  shoot  me  for  doing  what  you 
permitted.  Suppose  I  had  told  Major  Brockton  that?  I 
made  allowances  for  Madison's  passion,  but  unless  he  learns 
to  control  himself  he  will  have  to  vent  his  passion  on  some 
one  else. ' ' 

"She  has  just  lost  her  senses,"  gasped  Mrs.  Baron. 

"No,  we  have  acted  as  if  we  had  lost  ours,"  said  Mrs. 


172  ''MISS   LOU" 

Whately  rising  with  dignity.  "I  can't  reason  with  either 
of  you  any  more,  for  you  have  made  up  your  minds  that  a 
spade  is  not  a  spade.  I  shall  tell  my  niece  that  hereafter 
I  shall  treat  her  kindly  and  rationally,  and  then  go  home/' 
and  she  left  husband  and  wife  confronting  each  other. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  the  wife. 

"Do!"  exploded  the  husband  in  desperation,  "why, 
hump  myself  and  restore  everything  in  a  twinkling  as 
it  was  five  years  ago.     What  else  can  I  do?" 

Even  Mrs.  Baron  was  speechless  at  this  admission  that 
events  had  now  passed  far  beyond  his  control. 


SCOVILLE'S   HOPE  173 


M 


CHAPTER  XX 
scoville's   hope 

RS.  WHATELY  found  her  niece  on  the  veranda 
watching  the  proceedings  without,  and  she  lost  no 
time  in  expressing  her  purpose.  To  her  surprise, 
a  pair  of  arms  were  around  her  neck  instantly,  and  a  kiss 
was  pressed   upon   her  lips. 

''That's  my  answer,"  said  Miss  Lou,  who  was  as  ready 
to  forgive  and  forget  as  a  child.  "If  you  say  a  word  about 
going  home  I  shall  be  unhappy.  See,  auntie,  the  Yankees 
are  retreating  again  as  our  men  advance." 

The  morning  sun  was  now  shining  brightly  and  the  day 
growing  very  warm.  Before  them  was  the  scene  of  military 
operations.  At  present,  it  aSorded  a  deeply  exciting  spec- 
tacle, yet  oppressed  with  no  sense  of  personal  danger.  Sco- 
ville's little  force  was  slowly  retiring  along  the  ridge  which 
the  Confederates  were  approaching,  thus  removing  the  thea- 
tre of  actual  conflict  from  the  vicinity  of  the  dwelling. 

Mr.  Baron  appeared  on  the  veranda  and  soon  began  to 
yield  to  the  soothing  influences  of  his  pipe.  It  was  not  in 
his  nature  to  make  any  formal  acknowledgments  of  error, 
but  he  felt  that  he  had  gone  on  the  wrong  track  far  and 
long  enough,  and  so  was  ready  for  a  gradual  amelioration 
in  his  relations  to  his  niece  and  sister.  They  had  become 
too  absorbed  in  the  scene  before  them  to  think  of  much 
else,  while  Mrs.  Baron  sought  composure  and  solace  in  her 
domestic  affairs. 

At  last  Mrs.  Whately  said,  "The  Yankees  appear  to 
have  stopped  retreating  and  to  be  increasing  in  numbers. 


174  ''MISS   LOU" 

Alas !  I  fear  our  men  are  in  great  danger  and  that  the  main 
column  of  the  enemy  is  near." 

There  was  a  sudden  outbreak  of  cries  and  exclamations 
from  the  negroes  in  the  rear  of  the  mansion.  Zany  rushed 
out,  saying,  "De  Yanks  comin'  by  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin." 

She  had  scarcely  spoken  before  they  heard  a  rush  of 
trampling  steeds  and  the  head  of  a  Union  column  swept 
round  the  house.  Miss  Lou  saw  Scoville  leading  and  knew 
that  he  had  availed  himself  of  his  acquaintance  with  the 
place  to  guide  an  attack  upon  the  Confederates  in  their  rear. 
He  saluted  her  with  his  sabre  and  smiled  as  he  passed,  bui 
her  sympathies  were  with  the  major,  now  taken  at  such  dis- 
advantage. At  this  period  the  troops  on  both  sides  were 
veterans,  and  neither  fought  nor  ran  away  without  good 
reason.  Major  Brockton  knew  as  well  what  to  do  as  had 
Scoville  before  him,  and  retreated  at  a  gallop  with  his  men 
toward  the  southwest,  whence  his  supports  were  advancing. 
The  Union  attack,  however,  had  been  something  of  a  sur- 
prise and  a  number  of  the  Confederates  were  cut  off. 

The  scene  and  event  had  been  one  to  set  every  nerve 
tingling.  But  a  few  yards  away  the  Union  force  had  rushed 
by  like  a  living  torrent,  the  ground  trembling  under  the 
iron  tread  of  the  horses.  Far  more  impressive  had  been 
the  near  vision  of  the  fierce,  bronzed  faces  of  the  troopers, 
their  eyes  gleaming  like  their  sabres,  with  the  excitement 
of  battle.  Scoville  won  her  admiration  unstintedly,  even 
though  she  deprecated  his  purpose.  His  bearing  was  so 
fearless,  so  jaunty  even  in  its  power,  that  he  seemed  as 
brave  as  any  knight  in  the  old-fashioned  romances  she  had 
read,  yet  so  real  and  genial  that  it  was  hard  to  believe  he 
was  facing  death  that  sunny  morning  or  bent  upon  inflicting 
it.  Looking  at  his  young,  smiling,  care-free  face,  one  could 
easily  imagine  that  he  was  taking  part  in  a  military  pageant; 
but  the  headlong  career  and  flashing  weapons  of  his  men, 
who  deployed  as  they  charged  straight  at  the  Confederates, 
dispelled  any  such  illusion. 

The  ridge  began  to  grow  black  with  Union  men  and  Miss 


SCOVILLE'S    HOPE  175 

Lou  soon  perceived  the  gleam  of  artillery  as  the  gans  were 
placed  in  position.  Mr.  Baron,  who  had  permitted  his  pipe 
to  go  out  in  the  excitement,  groaned,  ''The  Yanks  have 
come  in  force  and  are  forming  a  line  of  battle  yonder.  If 
our  troops  come  up,  the  fight  will  take  place  on  my  land. 
Lord  help  us!     What's  coming  next?" 

Miss  Lou  began  to  receive  impressions  which  filled  her 
with  awe.  Heretofore  she  had  been  intensely  excited  by 
what  had  been  mere  skirmishes,  but  now  she  witnessed 
preparations  for  a  battle.  That  long  line  of  dark  blue  on 
the  ridge  portended  something  more  terrible  than  she  could 
imagine.  The  sounds  of  conflict  died  away  down  the  main 
road,  the  ring  of  axes  was  heard  in  the  grove  which  crowned 
the  ridge  near  the  mansion,  and  Mr.  Baron  groaned  again. 
Thin  curls  of  smoke  began  to  define  the  Union  position — 
before  noon  thousands  of  coffee-pots  were  simmering  on  the 
fires. 

At  last,  a  tall  man,  followed  by  a  little  group  of  officers 
and  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  rode  down  the  ridge  toward  the 
mansion.  These  troopers  surrounded  the  house,  forming 
one  circle  near  and  another  much  further  away,  so  that 
none  could  approach  without  causing  prompt  alarm.  The 
group  of  officers  dismounted  and  orderlies  held  their  horses. 
As  the  tall  man  came  up  the  veranda  steps  Miss  Lou  saw 
two  white  stars  on  his  shoulder.  Then  her  uncle  advanced 
reluctantly  and  this  man  said,  "Mr.  Baron,  I  presume?" 

**Yes,  sir." 

'*My  name  is  Marston,  commanding  officer.  This  is  my 
staff.  Will  you  oblige  us  by  as  good  a  meal  as  can  be  pro- 
vided hastily  ?    I  will  pay  for  it. " 

'*No,  sir,  you  cannot  pay  for  it,"  replied  Mr.  Baron  in- 
dignantly. '*I  keep  a  house  of  entertainment  only  for  my 
friends.  At  the  same  time  I  know  your  request  is  equiva- 
lent to  a  command,  and  we  will  do  the  best  we  can." 

*'Very  well,  sir.  1  can  repay  you  in  a  way  that  will  be 
satisfactory  to  my  mind  and  be  more  advantageous  to  you. 
Hartly,  tell  the  officer  in  command  to  permit  no  depreda- 


176  "MISS  LOU" 

tions.  Ladies,  your  servant,"  and  the  general  dropped  into 
a  chair  as  if  weary. 

Some  of  the  younger  officers  promptly  sought  to  play 
the  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Whately  and  her  niece,  and  upon  the 
latter  all  eyes  rested  in  undisguised  admiration.  Cold  and 
shy  as  she  had  appeared,  she  had  not  failed  to  note  the 
fact.  The  woman  was  sufficiently  developed  within  her  for 
this,  and  the  quick,  unanimous  verdict  of  these  strangers 
and  enemies  in  regard  to  herself  which  she  read  in  their 
eyes  came  with  almost  the  force  of  a  revelation.  For  the 
first  time,  she  truly  became  conscious  of  her  beauty  and  its 
power.  More  than  ever,  she  exulted  in  her  escape  and  free- 
dom, thinking,  "What  a  poor  figure  is  Cousin  Mad  beside 
these  men  whose  faces  are  so  full  of  intelligence!" 

Mrs.  Whately  was  the  perfection  of  dignified  courtesy, 
but  quickly  excused  herself  and  niece  on  the  plea  of  hasten- 
ing preparations.  She  was  one  who  could  not  extend  even 
enforced  hospitality  bereft  of  its  grace,  and  she  also  ex- 
plained to  Miss  Lou,  "We  had  much  better  gain  their 
good- will  than  their  ill-will." 

"Well,  auntie,  we  must  admit  that  the  Yankees  have 
not  acted  like  monsters  yet." 

The  lady  bit  her  lip,  but  said  after  a  moment,  "I  sup- 
pose gentlemen  are  much  the  same  the  world  over.  Thus 
far  it  has  been  our  good-fortune  to  have  met  with  such 
only.  There  is  another  class,  however,  from  which  Grod 
defend  us!" 

"Lieutenant  Scoville  admitted  that  himself.  So  there 
is  on  our  side — men  like  Perkins." 

"No,  I  mean  Yankee  officers  who  have  at  least  permitted 
the  worst  wrongs  in  many  parts  of  our  unhappy  land. ' ' 

"Well,"  thought  Miss  Lou,  as  she  helped  Zany  set  the 
table,  "after  my  experience  I  shall  believe  what  I  see. 
What's  more,  I  mean  to  see  the  world  before  I  die  and 
judge  of  everything  for  myself.  Now  if  the  general  on  our 
side,  with  his  staff,  will  only  come  to  supper,  I  shall  get 
quite  an  education  in  one  day." 


SCOVILLE'S   HOPE  177 

Mrs.  Baron  retired  to  her  room  and  would  have  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  her  present  guests,  but  Aun'  Suke  did 
not  need  her  orders  now,  nor  did  any  of  her  assistants. 

Chunk  had  again  returned  to  his  haunts  and  had  made 
havoc  in  the  poultry-yard.  Now  he  worked  like  a  beaver, 
meantime  enjoining  Aun'  Suke  "ter  sabe  de  plumpest 
chicken  ob  de  lot  fer  my  Boss.  Marse  Scoville  brung  'em 
all  yere,  you  knows.  Hi!  but  we  uns  ha'd  ter  git  out  sud'n 
dough  dis  mawnin'." 

"Does  you  tink  de  Linkum  men  git  druv  off  agin?" 

"How  you  talks!  Aun'  Suke.  Hi!  Druv  off!  Why, 
de  ridge  des  black  wid  um — anuff'  ter  eat  Mad  Whately 
en  all  he  men  alibe.  Dey  des  ridin'  troo  de  kintry  freein' 
we  uns.'* 

"Well,  I  hopes  I  kin  stay  free  till  night,  anyhow,"  said 
Aun'  Suke,  pausing  in  her  work  to  make  a  dab  at  a  little 
darky  with  her  wooden  spoon  sceptre.  "Firs'  Marse  Scoville 
whirl  in  en  say  I  free;  den  old  miss  whirl  in  en  say  I  ain'; 
now  comes  de  gin'ral  ob  de  hull  lot  en  I'se  free  agin. 
Wat's  mo',  de  freer  I  git  de  harder  I  has  ter  wuk.  My  haid 
gwine  roun'  lak  dat  ar  brass  rewster  on  de  barn,  wen'  de 
win'  blow  norf  en  souf  ter  oncet. " 

"No  mattah  'bout  yo'  haid,  Aun'  Suke.  Dat  ain'  no 
'count.     Hit's  yo'  ban's  dat  de  gin'ral  want  busy." 

"No  mattah  'bout  my  haid,  eh ?  Tek  dat  on  yo'n  den," 
and  she  cracked  Chunk's  skull  sharply. 

"Dat's  right,  Aun'  Suke,  keep  de  flies  away/'  remarked 
Chunk  quietly.  "You  git  all  de  freedom  you  wants  ef  you 
does  ez  I  sez. ' ' 

"Mo'n  I  wants  ef  I've  got  ter  min'  ev'ybody,  eben  dem 
w'at's  neber  growed  up. ' ' 

"I  des  step  ter  de  gin'ral  en  say  you  hab  dejections  'bout 
cookin'  he  dinner.  Den  I  tell  'im  ter  order  out  a  char'ot 
ter  tek  you  ter  glory. ' ' 

"G'lang!  imperdence,"  said  Aun'  Suke,  resuming  her 
duties. 

"La!  Aun'  Suke,"  spoke  up  Zany,  who  had  been  listen- 


178  "MISS  LOV 

ing  for  a  moment,  **doan  yer  know  Chunk  de  boss  ob  de 
hull  bizness  ?  He  des  pickin'  chickens  now  ter  let  de  gen- 
'ral  res'  a  while.  Bimeby  he  git  on  he  hoss  en  lead  de  hull 
Linkum  army  wid  yo'  wooden  spoon.*' 

Chunk  started  for  her,  but  the  fleet-footed  girl  was  soon 
back  in  the  dining-room. 

When  the  early  dinner  was  almost  ready  Mr.  Baron  said 
to  his  sister: 

"Surely,  there's  no  reason  why  you  and  Louise  should 
appear." 

"Very  good  reason,  brother.  I  shall  make  these  North- 
ern officers  feel  that  they  have  eaten  salt  with  us  and  so  are 
bound  to  give  us  their  protection.  Moreover,  I  wish  to  gain 
every  particle  of  information  that  I  can.  It  may  be  useful 
to  our  general  when  he  appears.  Bring  out  your  wine  and 
brandy,  for  they  loosen  tongues. ' ' 

It  soon  became  evident,  however,  that  General  Marston 
and  his  staff  felt  in  no  need  of  Dutch  courage,  and  were  too 
plainly  aware  of  their  situation  to  confuse  their  minds  with 
their  host's  liquor  even  if  they  were  so  inclined.  The  gen- 
eral was  serious,  somewhat  preoccupied,  but  courteous, 
especially  to  Miss  Lou,  on  whom  his  eyes  often  rested 
kindly.     At  last  he  said: 

"I  have  a  little  girl  at  home  about  your  age  and  with 
your  blue  eyes.     I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  see  her  to-day." 

"I  think,  sir,  you  are  glad  that  she  is  not  where  I  am  to- 
day," Miss  Lou  ventured  to  answer. 

'  "Yes,  that's  true.  I  hope  no  harm  will  come  to  you,  my 
child,  nor  will  there  if  we  can  help  it.  I  know  what  claims 
you  have  upon  us  and  would  be  proud  indeed  if  my  daugh- 
ter would  behave  as  you  have  in  like  circumstances.  I  have 
travelled  the  world  over,  Mrs.  Whately,  and  have  never 
seen  the  equal  of  the  unperverted  American  girl." 

"I  certainly  believe  that  true  of  Southern  girls,  gen- 
eral," was  the  matron's  reply,  although  she  flushed  under 
a  consciousness  of  all  that  Scoville  might  have  reported. 

"Pardon  me,  madam,  but  you  are  in  danger  of  pervert- 


SCOVILLE'S   HOPE  179 

ing  the  minds  of  Southern  girls  with  prejudice,  a  noble 
kind  of  prejudice,  I  admit,  because  so  closely  allied  with 
what  they  regard  as  patriotism,  but  narrow  and  narrowing 
nevertheless.  That  old  flag  yonder  means  one  people,  one 
broad  country,  and  all  equally  free  under  the  law  to  think 
and  act." 

"Do  you  intend  to  remain  in  this  country  and  hold  it  in 
subjection?  "  Mrs.  Whately  asked  in  smiling  keenness. 

"We  intend  to  give  the  Southern  people  every  chance 
to  become  loyal,  madam,  and  for  one  I  rest  confidently  in 
their  intelligence  and  sober  second  thoughts.  They  have 
fought  bravely  for  their  ideas,  but  will  be  defeated.  The 
end  is  drawing  near,  I  think." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Baron  grimly,  "lam  sorry  you 
are  preparing  for  some  more  bloody  arguments  about  our 
very  ears." 

"I  am  also,  on  account  of  these  ladies;  in  other  respects, 
I  am  not.  By  night  there  may  be  many  wounded  and  dying 
men.  It  will  be  well  for  them  that  they  do  not  fall  in  a  wild 
and  desolate  region  like  some  that  we  have  passed  through. 
As  you  say,  sir,  war  is  an  argument,  a  heated  one  at  times. 
But  a  wounded  man  is  an  appeal  to  all  kindly  humanity. 
You  would  nurse  me  a  little,  Miss  Baron,  if  1  were  brought 
in  wounded,  would  you  not?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  would,  because  I  feel  what  you  say  about 
a  wounded  man  is  true." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,"  he  replied  with  a  very  kindly  smile. 
"I  hope  to  tell  my  little  girl  about  you."  Suddenly  he  be- 
came grave  again  and  said,  "Mr.  Baron,  you  are  somewhat 
isolated  here,  and  may  not  be  so  well  informed  as  I  am.  How- 
ever the  prospective  conflict  may  turn,  I  cannot  remain  in 
this  region.  Many  of  our  wounded  may  be  left.  Do  not 
delude  yourself,  sir,  nor,  if  you  can  help  it,  permit  your 
friends  to  be  deluded  by  the  belief,  or  even  hope,  that  our 
farces  will  not  soon  control  this  and  all  other  parts  of  the 
land.  While  I  trust  that  humanity  will  lead  to  every  effort 
to  assuage  suffering  and  save  life,  1  must  also  warn  you  that 


180  **MIS8  LOU" 

strict  inquisition  will  soon  be  made.  There  is  nothing 
that  we  resent  more  bitterly  than  wrongs  to  or  neglect  of 
such  of  our  wounded  as  must  be  left  behind." 

"It  would  seem,  sir,  that  you  hold  me  responsible  for 
evils  which  I  cannot  prevent." 

*'No,  sir.  I  only  suggest  that  you  employ  your  whole 
influence  and  power  to  avert  future  evils.  I  am  offering  a 
word  to  the  wise,  I  trust.     Ah,  Scoville,  you  have  news?" 

"Yes,  sir,  important,"  said  that  officer,  standing  dusty 
and  begrimed  at  the  doorway. 

"Is  there  haste  ?  Is  your  information  for  my  ear  only  ? 
I'm  nearly  through." 

"Plenty  of  time  for  dinner,  sir.  No  harm  can  now  come 
from  hearing  at  once  what  I  have  to  say. ' ' 

"Go  ahead,  then.     I'd  like  my  staff  to  know." 

"Well,  sir,  having  got  the  enemy  on  the  run,  we  kept 
them  going  so  they  could  not  mask  what  was  behind  them. 
There's  a  large  force  coming  up." 

"As  large  as  ours?" 

"I  think  so.  I  gained  an  eminence  from  which  I  ob- 
tained a  good  view.  Major  Jones  told  me  to  say  that  he 
would  skirmish  with  the  advance,  delay  it,  and  send  word 
from  time  to  time. ' ' 

"All  right.     Get  some  dinner,  then  report  to  me." 

"Yes,  sir;"  and  Scoville  saluted  and  departed  without 
a  glance  at  any  one  except  his  commander. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  scout.  Miss  Baron?"  asked 
the  general  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"He  proved  himself  a  gentleman  last  evening,  sir,  and 
now  I  should  think  he  was  proving  a  very  good  soldier, 
much  too  good  for  our  interests. ' ' 

"You  are  mistaken  about  your  interests.  Don' t  you  think 
he  was  rather  rude  in  not  acknowledging  your  presence  ?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  military  matters,  but  I  reckon 
he  thought  he  was  on  duty. ' ' 

The  general  laughed.  "Well,"  he  remarked,  "it  does 
not  seem  to  be  age  that  makes  us  wise  so  much  as  eyes  that 


SCOVILLE'S   HOPE  181 

see  and  a  brain  back  of  them.  Scoville  is  a  gentleman  and 
a  good  soldier.  He  is  also  unusually  well  educated  and 
thoughtful  for  his  years.  You  are  right,  my  dear.  Pardon 
me,  but  you  keep  reminding  me  of  my  daughter,  and  I  like 
to  think  of  all  that's  good  and  gentle  before  a  battle." 

"I  wish  I  could  meet  her,"  said  Miss  Lou  simply. 

"Come  and  visit  her  after  the  war,  then,"  said  the  gen- 
eral cordially.  "The  hope  of  the  country  is  in  the  young 
people,  who  are  capable  of  receiving  new  and  large  ideas." 
Having  made  his  acknowledgments  to  Mr.  Baron  and  Mrs. 
Whately,  he  repaired  to  the  veranda  and  lighted  a  cigar. 
The  staif-officers,  who  had  tried  to  make  themselves  agree- 
able on  general  principles,  also  retired. 

Miss  Lou's  cheeks  were  burning  with  an  excitement  even 
greater  than  that  which  the  conflicts  witnessed  had  inspired 
— the  excitement  of  listening  to  voices  from  the  great  un- 
known world.  "These  courteous  gentlemen,"  she  thought, 
"this  dignified  general  who  invites  me  to  visit  his  daughter, 
are  the  vandals  against  whom  I  have  been  warned.  They 
have  not  only  treated  me  like  a  lady,  but  have  made  me 
feel  that  I  was  one,  yet  to  escape  them  I  was  to  become 
the  slave  of  a  spoiled,  passionate  boy!" 

Mrs.  Whately  guessed  much  that  was  passing  in  her 
mind,  and  sighed  deeply. 

At  the  veranda  steps  stood  Uncle  Lusthah,  hat  in  hand 
and  heading  a  delegation  from  the  quarters.  The  general 
said,  "Wait  a  moment,"  then  despatched  one  of  his  staff' 
to  the  ridge  with  orders.     "Now,  my  man." 

Uncle  Lusthah  bowed  profoundly  and  began,  "De  young 
Linkum  ossifer  said,  las'  night, '  how  you  tell  us  mo'  dis 
mawnin'  'bout  our  freedom." 

"You  are  free.  Mr.  Lincoln's  proclamation  makes  you 
all  free." 

"Kin  we  uns  go  'long  wid  you,  mars'r?  Folks  des  seem 
kiner  deef  'bout  dat  ar  prockermation  in  dese  parts." 

"No,  my  man,  you  can't  go  with  us.  We  are  marching 
much  too  rapidly  for  you  to  keep  up.    Stay  here  where  you 


182  *'MISS   LOU" 

are  known.  Make  terms  with  your  master  for  wages  or 
share  in  the  crops.  If  it  is  necessary,  the  people  about  here 
will  probably  soon  again  hear  the  proclamation  from  our 
cannon.  Mr.  Baron,  why  don't  you  gain  the  goodwill  of 
those  people  and  secure  their  co-operation  ?*  They  will  be 
worth  more  to  you  as  freemen,  and  they  are  free.  I  give 
you  friendly  advice.  Accept  what  you  can't  help.  Adapt 
yourselves  to  the  new  order  of  things.  Any  other  course 
will  be  just  as  futile  as  to  resolve  solemnly  that  you  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  steam,  but  travel  as  they  did  in 
Abraham's  time." 

Miss  Lou  looked  at  her  uncle  curiously  to  see  how  he 
would  take  this  advice.  His  coldness  of  manner  and  silence 
told  how  utterly  lost  upon  him  it  was.  The  general  looked 
at  him  a  moment,  and  then  said  gravely,  "Mr.  Baron,  such 
men  as  you  are  the  enemies  of  your  section,  not  such  men 
as  I.  Good-morning,  sir.  Good-by,  my  child.  Heaven  bless 
and  protect  you!"  With  a  stately  bow  to  Mrs.  Whately  he 
departed  and  was  soon  on  the  ridge  again  with  his  men. 

"I  wonder  if  Abraham  and  the  Patriarchs  would  have 
been  any  more  ready  for  the  new  order  of  things  than 
uncle?"  Miss  Lou  thought  as  she  went  to  find  Scoville. 

"He  down  at  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin.  Chunk  took  he 
dinner  dar,"  Zany  whispered. 

"He  des  step  ter  de  run  ter  wash  he  ban's  en  face,"  said 
Aun'  Jinkey  a  little  later. 

Passing  some  screening  shrubbery,  the  girl  saw  him 
standing  on  the  spot  from  which  he  had  been  carried  in- 
sensible by  her  directions  so  brief  a  time  before.  "Your 
dinner  is  ready,"  she  called. 

He  came  to  her  quickly  and  said,  "I've  been  trying  to 
realize  all  that  has  happened  since  I  fell  at  yOur  feet 
yonder. ' ' 

"Far  more  has  happened  to  me  than  to  you,'*  she  re- 
plied. "It  seems  years  since  then;  I've  seen  and  learned 
so  much." 

"I  wish  to  ask  you   something,"    he  said    earnestly. 


SCOVILLE'S  HOPE  183 

"That  scamp,  Perkins,  fired  on  me  at  close  range.  You 
stood  just  over  him  and  I  heard  what  you  said.  How  hap- 
pened it  that  his  bullet  flew  so  wide  of  the  mark  ?" 

She  began  laughing  as  she  asked,  "Have  you  never  heard 
that  there  was  luck  in  throwing  an  old  shoe  ?  I  hit  Perkins 
over  the  eyes  with  one  of  mine." 

"Took  it  off  and  fired  it  while  he  was  trying  to  shoot 
me?" 

"Yes." 

He  seized  both  her  hands  and  asked,  "What  will  you 
take  for  that  shoe?" 

"What  a  Yankee  you  are  to  ask  such  a  question!  It 
wasn't  a  shoe;  it  was  a  slipper." 

"Have  you  it  on  now  ?" 

"Yes.     What  should  you  want  of  it?" 

"I  want  to  wear  it  next  my  heart.  Which  one  was  it? 
Let  me  see  it." 

"No;  it's  old.  I  haven't  any  other,  and  I  shall  wear  it 
on  my  right  foot  as  long  as  it  lasts." 

"Please  let  me  see  it  and  take  it  in  my  hands  just  a  mo- 
ment.    I  may  never  have  a  chance  to  ask  another  favor  of 

you." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will.  You  are  coming  to  see  us,  and  the 
general  has  asked  me  to  visit  his  daughter  after  the  war  is 
over.     Do  you  think  he'll  remember  it?" 

"The  slipper,  please." 

"How  can  you  ask  so  absurd  a  thing  ?"  and  a  dainty  foot 
was  put  out  a  brief  instant  before  him. 

"Oh,  you  little  Cinderella!  I  wish  I  was  the  Prince.'* 
He  saw  something  like  a  frown  gathering  on  her  face. 
"Don't  look  that  way,"  he  resumed,  "I  want  to  tell  you 
something  I've  read.  I  don't  remember  the  words,  but 
the  gist  is  that  a  woman  never  forgets  a  man  on  whom  she 
has  bestowed  a  great  kindness.  Already  I  have  twice  owed 
my  life  to  you.  You  can't  forget  me.  My  hope  is  in  what 
you  have  done  for  me,  not  what  I  can  do  for  you.  I  can 
think  of  myself  lying  dead  in  front  of  the  house,  I  know  I 


184  ''MISS  LOU'' 

am  standiDg  here  looking  into  your  true,  sweet  eyes.  Let 
me  look  into  them  a  moment,  for  I  have  no  sister,  no  mother, 
no  one  in  the  world  that  1  care  for  like  you.  Do  not  think 
I  am  making  love.  I  may  be  dead  yet  before  night.  But 
whether  I  live  or  die  I  want  you  to  remember  that  there  is 
one  human  soul  that  always  wishes  you  well  for  your  own 
sake,  that  is  wholly  and  unselfishly  devoted  to  your  inter- 
ests and  happiness." 

"There,  I'm  beginning  to  cry,  and  your  dinner's  getting 
cold.     You  must  stop  talking  so." 

"Give  me  something  to  carry  into  battle  this  afternoon." 

She  stooped  and  gathered  some  wild  violets.  "There," 
she  said. 

"You  could  not  have  chosen  better.  Whenever  I  see 
violets  hereafter  they  shall  be  your  eyes  looking  at  me  as 
you  are  looking  now." 

' '  And — well — you  can  remember  that  there  is  always  a 
little  friend  in  the  South  who  does  care.  That's  a  curious 
thought  about  a  woman's  caring  for  those  she  has — I  don't 
believe  a  woman  can  care  for  any  one  and  not  try  to  do 
something  for  him.  Let  us  just  think  of  ourselves  as 
friends.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  never  want  to  think  any 
other  way.  Now  you  must  get  your  dinner.  You  may  be 
summoned  hastily  and  have  no  other  chance  to-day.  After 
Uncle  Lusthah's  words  last  night  I'm  not  going  to  have  any 
forebodings. ' ' 

"Won't  you  let  me  call  you  Miss  Lou  once  before  I  go  ?" 

"Why  not?" 

*'Well,  then.  Miss  Lou,  look  in  my  eyes  once  more  and 
remember  what  you  see  there.     I  won't  say  a  word." 

She  raised  hers  shyly  to  his,  blushed  deeply  and  turned 
away,  shaking  her  head.  The  power  to  divine  what  she  saw 
was  born  with  her. 

"Yes,  I  understand  you,"  he  said  very  gently,  "but  you 
can't  help  it,  any  more  than  the  sun's  shining.  Some  day 
your  heart  may  be  cold  and  sad,  and  the  memory  of  what 
you  have  just  seen  may  warm  and  cheer  it.     Miss  Lou,  you 


SCOVILLE'S   EOPE  1S5 

brave,  noble  little  child-woman,  didn't  you  see  that  my  love 
was  your  servant — that  it  merely  gives  you  power  over  me  ? 
Even  as  my  wife  you  would  be  as  free  as  I  would  be.  Now 
good- by.  We  part  here  and  not  before  others.  Chunk  is 
yonder  with  my  horse.  Be  just  as  happy  as  you  can  whether 
we  ever  meet  again  or  not. ' ' 

"Then — then — if  you  don't  come  again?"  she  faltered. 

*'I  shall  be  dead,  but  don't  believe  this  too  hastily." 

"You've  been  kind,"  she  burst  out  passionately,  "you've 
treated  me  with  respect,  as  if  I  had  a  right  to  myself.  You 
have  saved  me  from  what  I  dreaded  far  worse  than  death. 
You  shall  not  go  away,  perhaps  to  die,  without — without  — 
without — oh,  think  of  me  only  as  a  grateful  child  whose  life 
you've  kept  from  being  spoiled." 

"I  shall  not  go  away  without — what?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  What  shall  I  say  ?  My  heart  aches 
as  if  it  would  break  at  the  thought  of  anything  happening  to 
you. ' '  She  dropped  on  the  grass  and,  burying  her  face  in 
her  hands,  sobbed  aloud. 

He  knelt  beside  her  and  sought  to  take  one  of  her  hands. 

Suddenly  she  hid  her  face  against  his  breast  for  a  mo- 
ment and  faltered,  "Love  me  as  a  child  now  and  leave  me.'* 

"You  have  given  me  my  orders,  little  girl,  and  they 
would  be  obeyed  as  far  as  you  could  see  were  I  with  you 
every  day." 

"Lieutenant  Scoville!"  shouted  the  distant  voice  of  an 
orderly.  He  hastily  kissed  away  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  ex- 
claiming, "Never  doubt  my  return,  if  living,"  and  was  gone. 

In  a  moment  he  had  passed  through  the  shrubbery.  Be- 
fore she  had  regained  self-control  and  followed  he  was  speed- 
ing his  horse  toward  the  ridge.  "There,  he  has  gone  with- 
out his  dinner,"  she  said  in  strong  self-reproach,  hastening 
to  the  cabin.  Chunk,  who  was  stuffing  a  chicken  and  corn- 
bread  into  a  haversack,  reassured  her.  "Doan  you  worry, 
Miss  Lou,"  he  said.  "Dis  yere  chicken  gwine  ter  f oiler  'im 
right  slam  troo  eberyting  till  hitcotch  up,"  and  he  galloped 
after  his  new  "boss"  i'n  a  way  to  make  good  his  words. 


186  ''MISS  LOU** 


M 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TWO   STORMS 

ISS  Lou  sank  wearily  on  the  doorstep  of  Aun'  Jin- 
key's  cabin  where  the  reader  first  made  her  ac- 
quaintance. She  drew  a  long  sigh.  "Oh,  1  must 
rest  and  get  my  breath.     So  much  is  happening!" 

"You  po'  chile!"  was  the  sympathetic  response.  "Ah 
well,  honey,  de  good  Lawd  watchin'  ober  you.  I  year  how 
dat  ole  snake  in-de-grass  Perkins  git  out  Miss  Whately's 
keridge  en  tink  he  gwine  ter  tote  you  off  nobody  know 
whar.  You  passin'  troo  de  Red  Sea  long  o'  us,  honey.  I 
yeared  how  you  say  you  doan  wanter  lebe  yo'  ole  mammy. 
I  ain'  cried  so  sence  I  wus  a  baby  w'en  I  yeared  dat.  Doan 
you  reckermember,  honey  ?  You  sot  right  dar  en  wish 
sump'n  ter  hap'n.  I  'spects  we  bettah  be  keerful  how  we 
wishes  fer  tings.  Doan  you  min'  de  time  Uncle  Lusthah 
pray  fer  rain  en  we  wus  all  nigh  drownded  ?' ' 

"I'm  not  sorry,  mammy,  things  happened,  for  my  heart's 
been  warmed,  warmed  as  never  before.  Oh,  it's  so  sweet  to 
know  that  one  is  cared  for;  it  is  so  sweet  to  have  somebody 
look  you  in  the  eyes  and  say,  "I  want  you  to  be  happy  in 
your  own  way." 

"Did  Marse  Scoville  say  dat?" 

The  girl  nodded. 

"I'se  hab  ter  smoke  on  dat  ar  lil  whiles." 

Both  were  lost  in  thought  for  a  time,  Miss  Lou's  eyes 
looking  dreamily  out  through  the  pines  and  oaks  as  they 
had  before  when  vaguely  longing  that  the  stagnation  of  her 
life  might  cease.    All  had  become  strangely  still ;   not  a  sol- 


TWO   STORMS  187 

dier  was  in  sight;  even  the  birds  were  quiet  in  the  sultriness 
of  the  early  afternoon.  "Isn't  it  all  a  dream  ?"  the  girl  asked 
suddenly. 

"Kin'  ob  wish  we  could  wake  up  den,  if  it  is.  See  yere, 
Miss  Lou,  you  on'y  a  lil  chile  arter  all.  Doan  you  see  Marse 
Scoville  des  tekin'  a  longer  wa}^  roun'  de  bush?  Wen  he 
tell  you  he  want  you  ter  be  happy  he  mean  he  want  yoa 
hissef!" 

"Oh,  yes,  Aun'  Jinkey,  that  was  plain  enough;  but  do 
you  know  how  he  would  tal^e  me  and  when  ?" 

"Dat's  des  w'at  I  lak  ter  know,  fer  I  tells  you,  chile,  dis 
mar' in'  business  orful  serus." 

"He  would  take  me  only  when  I  went  to  him  of  my  own 
free  will  and  not  before.  I  feel  just  as  safe  with  him  as  with 
you.  I  believe  he  would  do  what  I  asked  just  as  he  minds 
that  general  of  his.  That's  the  wonderful  part  of  it,  which 
almost  takes  away  my  breath.  Why,  only  the  other  day 
uncle  and  aunt  were  ordering  me  about  as  they  always  have, 
and  now  here's  a  brave,  educated  man  ready  to  do  my  bid- 
ding. What  a  goose  Cousin  Mad  was !  If  he  had  acted 
that  way  1  shouldn't  have  known  any  better  I  fear  than  to 
marry  him.  I  was  so  starved  for  a  little  consideration  and 
kindness,  that  if  he'd  been  generous  and  made  me  feel  that 
he  cared  for  me  and  not  for  himself  all  the  time,  I  fear  I'd 
have  just  married  him  out  of  gratitude.  I  would  have  acted 
like  an  impulsive,  ignorant  child,  blind  to  everything  ex- 
cept that  some  one  cared  for  me.  But  that's  all  past  now. 
My  eyes  have  been'opened  and  I've  been  compelled  to  think 
and  foresee  the  future.  Dreary  enough  it  would  have  been 
with  him." 

' '  W  hat  you  gwine  ter  do,  honey  ?' ' 

"Stand  on  my  rights.  See  how  much  I've  learned  in  a 
few  short  days,  yes,  even  hours.  I've  learned  above  all 
things  that  my  life's  my  own.  There  were  my  relatives, 
who  would  reach  out  and  take  it,  just  as  they  would  a  ripe 
fig  from  a  tree,  with  just  about  as  much  consideration  for 
me  as  for  the  fig.     Thank  God!  I  have  been  shown  clearly 


188  '\MISS   LOW 

mj  right  to  my  own  life.  Since  I  Lave  learned  so  much  in 
a  few  days,  I  shall  keep  my  freedom  and  choose  that  which 
is  best  for  me  as  well  as  best  for  others. ' ' 

"Now,  honey,  you  on  de  right  track,  sho!  Des  you 
wait  en  lis'n.  Mo'  folks  dan  Marse  Scoville  wanter  talk 
wid  you  on  dis  mar'age  question.  You  on'y  lil  chile  yit. 
Des  you  keep  yosef  deserved-like  en  say  yo'  mouf  am' 
waterin'  few  enybody.  Marse  Scoville  berry  nice  gem'lin, 
but  he  yere  to-day  en  like  anufi  a  ©rful  way  yander  ter- 
morrer — ' ' 

"No  matter  where  he  is,  Aun'  Jinkey,  he  will  cany  the 
love  I  could  give  to  a  kind  brother  if  I  had  one.  He  knows 
I  can  do  no  more  and  he  does  not  ask  more." 

"Yes,  he  does,  honey;  he  ax  hit  in  de  bes  way  ter  git 
hit  fura  you.  He  ain'  de  fool  ter  grab  at  hit,  but  he  tek 
hit  all  de  same." 

"Well,"  she  answered  judicially,  "I  don't  see  how  a 
girl  can  help  it  if  a  man  thinks  more  of  her  than  she  of 
him,  but  it  does  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world 
whether  a  man  tries  to  grab,  as  you  say,  or  waits  respect- 
fully for  what  should  be  a  free  gift,  to  be  worth  anything. 
How  strange  it  seems  to  be  talking  quietly  of  such  things ! 
Think  of  what  has  happened,  what  might  have  happened, 
and  what  may  take  place  before  night!" 

"Well,  honey,  hit's  a  good  ting  ter  stop  tinkin'  or  ter 
tink  slow  sometimes.  We  couldn't  keep  a  gwine  as  we 
wus.  Our  haids  ud  whirl  right  off  our  shol'ers.  Hit's  all 
so  peaceful  now,  why  doan  you  go  ter  yo'  room  en  tek  a 
nap.     Mebbe  you  git  berry  lil  sleep  ter-night." 

"I  reckon  your  advice  is  good,  mammy.  If  you  have 
trouble,  come  to  me. " 

As  she  walked  through  the  garden  and  shrubbery  to  the 
mansion  she  felt  that  she  was  reacting  from  the  strong  ex- 
citements of  the  morning  into  languor  and  excessive  weari- 
ness. The  idle  negroes  had  partially  succumbed  to  the  heat 
and  quiet,  and  were  generally  dozing  in  the  sun,  even  on 
thi&  eventful  day.     Perkins,  the  exacting  overseer,  had  dis- 


TWO   STORMS  189 

appeared  on  tlie  first  alarm  of  Scoville's  charge  and  had  not 
been  seen  since.  When  entering  the  house  Zany,  who  al- 
ways seemed  on  the  qui  vive^  told  her  that  her  aunts  were  in 
their  rooms  and  that  Mr.  Baron  was  in  his  office.  Going  out 
on  the  veranda,  the  girl  saw  two  or  three  vigilant  Union 
videttes  under  a  tree.  It  was  evident  that  they  had  chosen 
a  point  which  commanded  a  good  view  of  the  house,  out- 
buildings and  quarters.  The  ridge  was  still  lined  with 
troops,  but  they  appeared  to  be  scattered  about  at  their 
ease  on  the  ground.  The  girl's  eyes  drooped;  she  wearily 
climbed  to  her  room  and  was  soon  asleep. 

Many  others  slept  also  who  would  sleep  again  that  night 
in  the  stillness  of  death;  others  who  would  groan  through 
coming  days  and  nights  in  anguished  wakefulness.  The 
temporary  quiet  did  not  deceive  the  resting  soldiers  on 
either  side.  They  well  knew  that  the  active  brains  of  their 
superiors  were  at  work.  Scoville  found  unexpected  duty. 
He  was  given  a  score  of  men,  with  orders  to  scour  the  roads 
to  the  eastward,  so  that,  if  best,  his  general  could  retire  rap- 
idly and  in  assured  safety  toward  the  objective  point  where 
he  was  to  unite  -with  a  larger  force.  Instead  of  resting,  the 
young  man  was  studying  topography  and  enjoying  the 
chicken  which  had  at  last  caught  up  with  him.  He  knew 
the  importance  of  his  work  and  did  it  thoroughly.  Having 
chosen  the  road  which  promised  best,  he  marked  it  on  a 
map,  expecting  soon  to  go  over  it  again  as  guide.  He 
sighed  deeply  as  he  thought  that  it  would  lead  away  from 
the  girl  to  whom  he  had  devoted  his  life,  yet  not  because 
he  owed  it  to  her.  "If  we  could  only  remain  together," 
he  thought,  "she  would  learn  to  give  all  that  I  give.  The 
dear  little  girl  is  just  learning  that  she  is  a  woman,  and  is 
bewildered." 

Major  Jones,  who  had  been  skirmishing  to  delay  the 
Confederate  advance,  allowed  his  men  and  horses  to  rest 
when  the  enemy  paused  for  their  mid- day  bivouac,  and  so 
had  come  about  a  cessation  of  hostilities  during  which  both 
parties  took  breath  for  the  coming  struggle. 


190  "MISS   LOV 

Miss  Lou  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a  jar  which,  shook 
the  house,  followed  by  a  strange,  unearthly  sound.  For  an 
instant  she  was  confused,  thinking  night  had  come,  so  dark 
was  her  room.  Springing  to  her  window  she  threw  open 
the  blinds.  A  black,  threatening  sky  met  her  gaze,  the 
sunlight  hidden  by  a  dense  bank  of  clouds,  above  which 
towered  golden-tipped  thunder- heads.  The  appearance  of 
the  ridge  puzzled  her.  The  cannon  were  there,  a  puff  of 
smoke  rolled  heavily  from  one  of  them;  but  excepting  a 
few  gunners  just  about  the  pieces,  the  long  line  of  men 
and  horses  had  largely  disappeared.  Down  the  lawn  from 
a  point  not  far  from  the  house  to  the  main  street  and  be- 
yond was  a  line  of  horsemen,  keeping  abreast  and  equidis- 
tant from  each  other.  What  did  it  all  mean?  Facing  the 
ridge  on  the  left  of  the  lawn  was  an  extensive  grove,  through 
which  the  avenue  wound  in  and  out,  and  the  line  of  horse- 
men was  approaching  this.  Suddenly  the  very  earth  trem- 
bled and  she  saw  smoke  pouring  upward  among  the  trees 
from  a  rise  of  ground  within  the  grove.  All  now  became 
clear  to  her.  While  she  had  slept,  the  Confederates  had 
come  up,  taken  their  position  and  the  battle  was  beginning. 
In  strong  excitement  she  rushed  down  to  the  hall  below, 
where  she  found  her  aunts  with  pallid,  frightened  faces. 
On  the  veranda  was  Mr.  Baron,  looking  white  indeed,  but 
with  firm,  compressed  lips  and  fiery  eyes,  watching  the  open- 
ing conflict. 

"Go  in,"  he  said  sternly,  "this  is  no  place  for  you." 
In  her  intense  absorption  she  did  not  even  hear  him. 
From  the  edge  of  the  grove  and  along  the  avenue  were  now 
seen  little  puffs  of  smoke,  followed  by  the  sharp  crack  of 
carbines.  The  long  line  of  Union  skirmishers  began  to 
reply  in  like  manner,  but  it  was  evident  that  they  found 
themselves  too  obvious  marks  in  the  open.  Here  and 
there  men  fell  from  their  saddles,  and  the  riderless  horses 
galloped  away.  The  notes  of  a  bugle  were  heard  above  the 
din,  and  the  Union  skirmish  line  retired  rapidly  to  the  foot 
of  the  ridge. 


TWO   STORMS  191 

Miss  Lou  saw  all  this  only  as  the  eyes  catch,  half- 
involuntarily,  what  is  passing  before  them.  With^an  awe 
almost  overwhelming,  her  attention  was  absorbed  by  a 
phase  of  war  utterly  unknown  to  her — an  artillery  duel. 
Two  Confederate  batteries  in  the  grove  had  opened  and 
defined  their  positions.  The  Union  guns  replied,  shot  for 
shot,  in  loud  explosions,  with  answering,  deep-toned  roar. 
Above  the  detonations  were  heard  the  piercing  screams  of 
the  shells  as  they  flew  back  and  forth.  On  the  ridge  they 
burst  with  a  sharp  crack  and  puff  of  vapor,  with  what  effect 
could  only  be  guessed;  but  the  missiles  which  shrieked  into 
the  grove  gave  the  impression  of  resistless,  demoniacal  power. 
Great  limbs  and  even  tops  of  trees  fell  crashing  after  them. 
Blending  faintly  with  the  rending  sound  which  followed 
were  screams  and  yells. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "if  Cousin  Mad  is  there  he 
at  least  is  brave.  It  seems  as  if  my  knees  would  give  way 
under  me. ' ' 

Even  as  she  spoke,  a  forked  line  of  light  burned  down- 
ward athwart  the  heavy  rising  clouds.  The  smoke  of  the 
battle  was  lurid  an  instant;  then  came  a  peal  which  dwarfed 
the  thunder  of  earthly  artillery.  Strange  to  say,  the  sound 
was  reassuring  to  the  girl;  it  was  familiar.  "Ah!"  she 
cried,  "the  voice  of  heaven  is  louder  than  this  din,  and 
heaven  after  all  is  supreme.  This  fiery  battle  will  soon 
be  quenched  and  hot  blood  cooled." 

The  voice  in  the  sky  was  unheeded,  for  entering  the 
lawn  from  the  road,  distant  from  the  mansion  about  an 
eighth  of  a  mile,  was  seen  a  solid  gray  column.  On  it  went 
toward  the  ridge  at  a  sharp  trot.  "Ah !' '  groaned  Mr.  Baron, 
"now  comes  the  tug  of  war." 

The  girl  screamed  and  moaned  as  she  saw  shells  tearing 
their  way  through  this  column,  horses  and  men  rolling  over 
on  the  ground,  puffs  of  smoke  which  rose  revealing  frightful 
gaps;  but  on  flowed  the  dark  gray  torrent  as  if  propelled  by 
an  invisible,  resistless  force.  Vacancies  made  by  wounds 
and  death  were  closed  almost  instantly.     In  the  strange, 


192  ''MISS   LOW 

luminous  twilight  made  bj  the  approaching  storm,  the 
impetuous  advance  was  wonderfully  distinct  in  the  dis- 
tance, like  a  vivid  silhouette. 

As  the  head  of  the  column  drew  near  the  gentle  accliv- 
ity, it  fairly  seemed  to  crumble.  Grape  shot  was  now 
making  havoc;  but  for  every  man  and  horse  that  fell,  two 
apparently  came  on  as  from  an  exhaustless  reservoir.  High 
above  all  sounds  now  came  a  yell  which,  once  heard,  can 
never  be  forgotten^  and  the  Confederate  column  deployed 
at  a  gallop,  charging  the  ridge.  The  Union  skirmish  line 
had  already  retired  to  the  right,  while  pouring  over  the 
ridge  by  which  they  had  been  hitherto  concealed,  came 
rank  after  rank  of  men  in  blue,  their  deeper  chest  shouts 
blending  with  the  shriller  cries  of  their  enemies.  Charge 
was  being  met  with  counter  charge.  Cannon  were  silent, 
for  now  friends  and  foes  were  too  near  together.  Even  the 
clouds  loomed  silently,  as  if  in  suspense,  over  the  terrific 
shock  of  the  two  lines  of  approaching  cavalry. 

"Awful!  awful!"  moaned  the  girl. 

"Oh!  if  Madison  is  meeting  that  onset!"  shrieked  Mrs. 
Whately,  beside  herself  with  horror,  yet  compelled  to  look 
by  a  terrible  fascination. 

Just  as  the  two  opposing  forces  dashed  together  a  bolt 
of  lightning  gleamed  over  them,  turning  the  upraised  sabres 
for  an  instant  into  swords  of  fire.  The  crash  of  thunder  fol- 
lowed so  swiftly  that  it  appeared  to  result  from  the  impact 
of  the  two  charging  lines.  An  impression  of  annihilation 
was  given,  but  so  far  was  it  from  being  realized,  that  the 
slope  was  seen  to  be  alive  with  a  struggling,  seething  mass, 
waving  back  and  forth,  at  first  downward,  then  stationary, 
then  gradually  upward,  upward,  until  Mr.  Baron  shouted, 
"Hurrah!  our  men  are  carrying  the  ridge!" 

The  cry  was  scarcely  uttered  before  another  dark  line  of 
horsemen  on  the  far  right  was  seen  galloping  forward  tow- 
ard the  Confederate  flank.  Again  there  was  another  vivid 
flash,  lighting  up  the  scene  with  a  lurid,  momentary  glare. 
The  peal  which  followed  created  the  illusion  of  sounding 


TWO   STORMS  193 

this  new  charge  or  else  to  be  the  thunder  of  the  onset.  It 
turned  the  fortune  of  the  battle  on  the  right,  for  the  Con- 
federates were  seen  to  pause,  and  finally  to  give  back  slowly 
and  stubbornly.  Then  the  advancing  rainfall  began  to  blot 
the  combatants  from  view. 

Suddenly  the  Union  artillery  opened.  It  seemed  to  the 
terrified  spectators  on  the  veranda  as  if  the  shells  were  shriek- 
ing directly  toward  them,  bat  the  iron  bolts  tore  their  way 
through  the  grove,  although  much  nearer  the  house  than 
before.  The  reason  soon  became  apparent.  On  that  ridge, 
and  within  the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  trees,  were  ofiicers  as 
coolly  observant  as  if  playing  a  game  of  chess.  They  gave 
no  more  heed  to  the  terrific  peals  of  thunder  than  they  would 
have  done  to  so  many  Chinese  gongs.  While  watching  the 
attack  upon  his  centre  and  providing  against  it,  General 
Marston  was  also  seeking  to  penetrate,  by  means  of  a  pow- 
erful glass,  the  mask  of  the  grove,  and  so  detected  a  con- 
centration on  his  left.  Instantly  his  guns  began  to  shell  the 
grove  near  the  house,  where  the  assaulting  force  was  mass- 
ing. His  reserves  were  ordered  forward,  and  instructions 
rapidly  given  to  the  colonel  who  was  to  repel  the  attack; 
meanwhile  his  field- glass  was  glued  to  his  eyes. 

Soon  he  cried,  "It  will  be  their  supreme  effort.  We  must 
strike  a  stunning  blow  in  order  to  get  away  in  safety,"  and 
he  sprang  on  his  horse  and  started  the  charge  himself. 

The  men,  adoring  their  leader,  followed  with  stern  re- 
solve and  high  enthusiasm.  Scoville,  who  had  returned, 
reported  and  rested  somewhat,  knew  how  critical  was  the 
moment.  He  rode  close  to  the  general,  but  did  not  fall  out 
when  the  wary  commanding  officer  permitted  the  human 
bolt  he  had  launched  to  pass  beyond  him.  He  was  respon- 
sible for  the  entire  force,  and  must  do  just  enough  and  no 
more.  He  must  still  keep  his  eyes  on  all  parts  of  the  field 
and  his  brain  ready  to  direct  when  the  result  of  the  charge 
was  known.  More  than  the  military  necessity  of  repelling 
the  Confederate  charge  bursting  from  the  grove  occupied 
the  mind  of  Scoville.    It  looked  to  him  as  if  the  fight  would 

Roe— IX— I 


194  ''MISS   LOV 

take  place  about  the  very  home  of  the  girl  to  whom  his  heart 
was  so  tender,  and  his  impulse  was  to  be  near,  to  protect  and 
defend. 

The  light  was  fading  fast;  the  fury  of  the  storm,  whose 
preliminary  blasts  were  shaking  the  dwelling,  was  coming 
as  if  an  ally  with  the  galloping  Union  ranks  and  threaten- 
ing the  equally  impetuous  onset  of  the  Confederates.  In 
the  very  van  of  the  Southern  force  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning 
revealed  Mad  Whately,  with  a  sabre  of  flame.  For  once  he 
made  a  heroic  figure.  His  mother  saw  him  and  shrieked 
despairingly,  but  her  voice  was  lost  in  the  wild  uproar  of 
thunder,  yells  and  shouts  of  the  combatants,  the  shock  of 
steel  and  crash  of  firearms.  Then  torrents  of  rain,  which 
had  approached  like  a  black  curtain  extending  from  heaven 
to  earth,  hid  the  awful  scene  of  conflict.  It  vanished  like  a 
dream,  and  would  have  seemed  but  a  nightmare  had  not  the 
ominous  sounds  continued. 

Mr.  Baron  broke  the  spell  which  had  fallen  upon  him, 
dragged  his  sister  and  niece  within  the  door,  and  bolted 
it  with  difficulty  against  the  spray-laden  gusts. 


CHUNK'S   QUEST  19& 


CHAPTER  XII 
chunk's   quest 

IF  there  had  been  sufficient  light  the  battle  might  have 
continued  in  spite  of  the  tropical  downpour,  but  dark- 
ness became  so  intense  that  friend  and  foe  were  alike 
disguised  from  each  other.  At  this  crisis,  Scoville's  horse 
was  shot  and  fell,  dragging  his  rider  down  also.  A  flash  of 
lightning  revealed  the  mishap  to  Mad  Whately,  who  secured 
the  capture  of  the  Union  officer  before  he  could  extricate 
himself. 

By  a  sort  of  mutual  consent  the  contending  forces  drew 
apart.  Prisoners  had  been  taken  on  both  sides,  and  Whate- 
ly, who  had  badly  sprained  his  arm,  unfitting  himself  for 
active  duty,  was  given  charge  of  those  secured  by  the 
Confederates. 

General  Marston  withdrew  the  Union  forces  to  the  ridge 
again.  He  was  satisfied  that  prudence  required  rapid  prog- 
ress toward  his  somewhat  distant  destination.  True,  he  had 
severely  checked  his  foes,  but  he  knew  that  they  had  rein- 
forcements near,  while  he  had  not.  He  deeply  regretted 
Scoville's  absence  and  possible  death,  but  he  had  the  map, 
and  the  men  who  had  been  out  with  the  scout  were  ac- 
quainted with  the  selected  road.  Therefore,  as  soon  as  the 
violence  of  the  storm  abated  and  the  moon  shed  a  faint  radi- 
ance through  the  murky  clouds,  he  renewed  his  march  as 
rapidly  as  the  rain-soaked  ground  permitted.  Fires  were 
lighted  along  the  ridge  to  deceive  the  enemy,  and  a  rear- 
guard left  to  keep  them  burning. 

The  trembling  household  within  the  mansion  slowly  ral- 
lied as  the  sounds  of  battle  died  away.    As  soon  as  the  fury 


196  ''MISS   LOU'* 

of  the  conflict  and  storm  decreased,  Mr.  Baron  lighted  a 
candle  and  they  looked  into  one  another's  white  faces. 

Miss  Lou  was  the  first  to  recover  some  intrepidity  of 
spirit.  "Well,"  she  said,  "we  are  still  alive,  and  these  tor- 
rents are  evidently  stopping  the  fighting  as  they  would  put 
out  fire." 

"Oh,  Madison,  Madison!"  Mrs.  Whately  moaned,  "are 
you  living,  or  are  you  dead  ?  If  you  are  dead  it  is  little  to 
me  that  I  am  spared. " 

Miss  Lou  did  not  give  very  much  thought  to  her  cousin. 
In  overpowering  solicitude  she  asked  herself,  "Where  is  he 
whose  eyes  looked  such  strange,  sweet  truth  into  mine 
to-day  ?  Are  they  unseeing,  not  because  it  is  dark,  but 
because  the  light  of  life  is  quenched?" 

The  brunt  of  the  storm  soon  passed  and  was  followed  by 
a  drizzling  rain  and  the  promise  of  a  gloomy  night.  As  the 
howling  wind  ceased  their  clamor,  new  blood-curdling 
sounds  smote  the  girl's  ears — the  cries  of  wounded  and 
dying  men  and  horses.  Then  the  ghastly  truth,  scarcely 
thought  of  in  the  preceding  excitement,  sickened  her  heart, 
for  she  remembered  that,  scattered  over  the  lawn  and  within 
the  grove,  were  mutilated,  bleeding  forms.  They  were  all 
the  more  vividly  presented  to  her  fancy  because  hidden  by 
the  night. 

But  little  time  elapsed  before  the  activity  of  the  surgeons 
began.  Mr.  Baron  was  summoned  and  told  that  his  piazzas 
and  as  many  rooms  as  possible  must  be  occupied,  and  part 
of  the  wide  hall  fitted  up  with  appliances  for  amputations. 
Every  suitable  place  in  the  out-buildings  was  also  required. 

Mrs.  Baron  almost  shrieked  as  she  heard  this,  seeing  at 
one  mental  glance  the  dwelling  which  it  had  been  her  ruling 
passion  to  maintain  in  immaculate  order,  becoming  blood- 
stained and  muddy  from  top  to  bottom. 

Mrs.  Whately  asked  only  for  her  son,  and  he  soon  ap- 
peared, with  the  excitement  of  battle  still  in  his  eyes.  She 
rushed  to  his  arms  and  sobbed  on  his  breast. 

"Come,  mother,"  he  exclaimed,  "we've  no  time  for  this 


CHUNK'S   QUEST  197 

now.  Please  get  a  sling  for  this  left  arm,  whicli  aches  hor- 
ribly— only  a  sprain,  but  right  painful  all  the  same. ' ' 

Before  the  agitated  lady  could  recover  herself,  Miss  Lou 
ran  to  her  room  and  returned  with  a  scarf  which  answered 
the  purpose. 

"Oh,  you  deign  to  do  something  for  me?**  he  said 
bitterly. 

"Come,  cousin,*'  she  replied,  "since  I  have  not  lost  my 
senses  after  what's  happened  it's  time  you  regained  yours." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  his  mother  fervently,  as  she 
adjusted  the  support  for  the  disabled  arm.  "Yes,  I  trust 
that  we  may  all  regain  our  senses,  and,  if  we  outlive  these 
scenes,  begin  to  act  as  if  we  were  sane." 

"There,  that  will  do,"  he  said  impatiently.  "I  must  go 
now,  for  I  have  important  duties, ' '  and  he  hastened  away. 

Meantime  General  Marston  had  sent  word  through  his 
picket  line  that  he  would  not  interfere  with  the  care  of  the 
wounded  and  that  the  dwelling  would  not  be  fired  upon  if 
used  as  a  hospital.  He  accompanied  this  assurance  with  the 
offer  of  medical  stores,  coffee,  sugar  and  the  services  of  two 
surgeons.  The  Confederate  general  accepted  the  offer.  The 
trembling  negroes  were  routed  out  of  their  quarters,  and 
compelled  more  or  less  reluctantly  to  help  bring  in  the 
wounded.  [Jncle  Lusthah  showed  no  hesitancy  in  the  hu- 
mane work  and  soon  inspired  those  over  whom  he  had  influ- 
ence with  much  of  his  spirit.  It  had  been  a  terribly  anxious 
day  for  him  and  those  about  him.  Hope  had  ebbed  and 
flowed  alternately  until  night,  when  the  day  which  seemed 
to  him  the  dawning  of  the  millennium  ended  as  he  imagined 
the  world  might  end.  Now,  however,  he  was  comforted  in 
the  performance  of  good  works,  and  he  breathed  words  of 
Christian  hope  into  more  than  one  dying  ear  that  night. 

Perkins,  the  overseer,  was  animated  by  a  very  different 
spirit.  At  the  first  alarm  of  Scoville's  return  in  the  morn- 
ing he  had  dashed  into  the  grove,  and  next  concealed  him- 
self on  a  distant  eminence  from  which  he  could  wa^ah 
eyents.     Under  the  cover  of  darkness  he  returned,  and  ex- 


198  *'M1SS   LOW 

perienced  grim  sarisfaction  when  he  discovered  the  hated 
Union  officer  among  the  prisoners. 

As  Whately  was  making  his  final  arrangements  for  the 
night,  Perkins  touched  his  arm  saying,  "Lef tenant,  I'll  help 
watch  that  Yank  thar"  (pointing  to  Scoville).  "They  say 
he's  ez  slip'ry  ez  a  eel." 

"Do  so,  Perkins.  We  both  have  a  heavy  score  to  settle 
with  him.  At  daylight  I'll  send  him  where  he  won't  fare 
as  well  as  he  did  on  this  plantation." 

"Is  your  arm  woun'ed  ?" 

"No,  only  sprained,  but  it  pains  like  the  devil.  Watch 
that  Yank  well.     I'd  rather  they  all  got  away  than  he." 

"He'll  never  get  away  alive,"  was  the  ominous  reply. 

As  was  true  after  the  first  skirmish  recorded  in  this  his- 
tory, Mrs.  Whately  now  again  appeared  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. Relieved  from  overwhelming  anxiety  in  regard  to 
her  son,  her  heart  overflowed  with  pity  for  the  injured. 
From  the  outer  darkness,  limp,  helpless  forms,  in  blood- 
stained garments,  were  borne  in.  Groans  and  half-stifled 
cries  began  to  resound  through  the  house.  Even  Mrs. 
Baron  forgot  all  else  now  but  the  pressing  necessity  of 
relieving  pain  and  saving  life,  but  she  had  eyes  only  for 
those  who  wore  the  gray.  Mrs.  Whately,  on  the  contrary, 
made  no  distinction,  and  many  a  poor  fellow,  in  blue  as 
well  as  gray,  blessed  her  as  she  aided  the  surgeons,  two 
of  whom  were  from  the  Union  lines.  Miss  Lou  remained 
chiefly  in  her  own  room  and  busied  herself  preparing  band- 
ages, sparing  not  her  own  rather  scanty  store  of  under- 
clothing in  the  task. 

Mr.  Baron  was  in  the  dining-room,  dispensing  wines  and 
liquors  to  the  officers  who  were  coming  and  going.  The 
Confederate  general  had  made  the  wide  hearth,  on  which 
roared  an  ample  fire,  his  headquarters  for  the  time,  and 
was  turning  first  one  side  then  the  other  toward  the  blaze, 
in  order  to  dry  his  uniform.  Poor  Aun'  Suke  had  been 
threatened  into  renewed  activity,  and  with  many  colored 
assistants  had  begun  a  stewing,  baking  and  frying  which 


CHUNK'S   QUEST  199 

promised  to  be  interminable.  Chickens,  pigs  and  cattle  had 
been  killed  wherever  found,  for  hungry  soldiers  after  a 
battle  and  in  darkness  ask  no  questions  on  either  side. 
Mr.  Baron  knew  he  was  being  ruined,  but  since  it  was  in 
behalf  of  his  friends,  he  maintained  remarkable  fortitude, 
while  his  wife,  with  her  thin,  white,  set  face,  honored  every 
requisition. 

Some  of  the  negroes,  sighing  for  what  seemed  vanishing 
freedom,  sought  to  reach  the  Union  force,  but  were  stopped  at 
the  picket  line  by  which  General  Marston  masked  his  retire- 
ment from  the  field.  The  majority  of  the  slaves,  however, 
were  kept  at  work  indoors  and  out,  under  the  eyes  of  the 
Confederates,  who  quickly  showed  themselves  to  be  savage 
toward  any  disposition  to  shirk  orders. 

There  was  one  who  would  have  received  short  shrift  if 
hands  could  have  been  laid  upon  him — Chunk.  None 
knew  this  better  than  he,  yet  he  was  as  fearless  as  he  was 
shrewd.  Scoville  had  already  won  from  him  unlimited  de*. 
votion — bought  him,  body  and  soul,  with  kindness  and 
freedom.  When  he  found  his  new  master  had  not  returned 
from  the  final  charge,  Chunk  questioned  one  and  another 
until  he  learned  that  Scoville  had  been  seen  to  go  down  and 
then  disappear  in  the  gloom.  Whether  he  had  been  killed 
or  captured,  no  one  knew,  but  Chunk  resolved  to  find  out 
before  morning  at  all  risks.  Yet  in  the  darkness  and  rain 
he  felt  much  confidence  in  his  ability  to  elude  danger,  for 
he  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground  and  of  numerous  places 
for  concealment. 

He  set  about  his  task  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way, 
resolving  to  begin  operations  with  a  good  supper.  At  this 
early  stage  Ann'  Jinkey  and  her  cabin  were  both  forgotten, 
and  the  poor  old  woman  was  half  dead  from  terror.  When 
Chunk  tapped  at  the  one  window,  she  feared  the  spooks 
of  dead  soldiers  had  already  begun  their  persecutions. 
Never  was  there  a  more  welcome  and  reassuring  sound 
than  the  impatient  voice  of  her  grandson,  and  she  soon 
so  rallied  as  to  get  him  something  to  eat. 


200  ''MISS   LOW 

"I  darsn't  come  in,"  he  said.  *'I  got  ter  be  whar  I  kin 
run  en  hide.  Now  granny,  lis'n  wid  all  yo'  ears.  Marse 
Scoville  killed,  wonn'ed  or  took.  I'se  gwine  ter  fin'  out 
which.  Wen  dey  gits  mo'  settle  down  lak  anu£E  dey  be 
lookin'  fer  me  yere,  en  I  kyant  come  yere  no  mo',  but  I  kin 
git  ter  Miss  Lou's  winder  ef  she  hab  no  light  in  her  room. 
I  safest  whar  dey  ain'  lookin'  fer  me.  Tell  her  ter  put  no 
light  sho!  Mebbe  she  hafter  hep  me  git  Marse  Scoville  off, 
ef  he  took  en  ef  he  woun'ed  she  de  one  ter  'tect  en  keer 
fer  'im.  Dat  ar  Perkins  kill  'im  sho,  ef  he  git  de  charnce. 
Now  ef  you  years  me -toot  twice  lak  a  squinch-owl,  you 
knows  dat  you  got  ter  go  en  tell  Miss  Lou  dat  I  need  her 
hep  en  dat  I  gwine  ter  creep  'long  de  pazzer  roof  ter  her 
winder.  Ef  I  doan  toot  you  keeps  quiet  till  you  sees  me 
agin,"  and  he  disappeared. 

"Who'd  a  thunk  dat  ar  boy  had  sech  a  haid !"  ejaculated 
Aun'  Jinkey,  lighting  her  pipe.  Deep  as  would  now  be  her 
solicitude  and  great  as  her  fears,  her  grandson's  appearance 
and  words  had  dispelled  the  spook-phase  of  her  tribulations. 

Chunk  could  run  on  all  fours  as  easily  as  in  an  upright 
position,  and  he  made  his  way  rapidly  through  the  dark- 
ness. His  first  aim  was  to  get  his  eye  on  Perkins  and  Mad 
Whately,  from  whom  he  felt  that  he  and  Scoville  had  the 
most  to  fear.  He  was  now  armed  with  a  knife  and  short 
club,  as  well  as  a  revolver,  and  was  determined  to  use  them 
rather  than  be  captured.  Skulking,  creeping  and  hiding  in 
deep  shadow,  he  at  last  saw  Perkins  issuing  from  his  house, 
carrying  his  lantern.  Following,  he  distinctly  observed  the 
brief  interview  between  the  overseer  and  Whately,  and 
guessed  correctly  that  Scoville  was  among  the  prisoners. 
He  was  soon  able  so  to  shift  his  position  as  to  satisfy  him- 
self on  this  point,  and  also  to  note  that  Perkins,  from  his 
movements,  would  be  one  of  the  guard.  By  the  gleams  of 
the  lantern  Chunk  also  saw  that  Scoville  appeared  to  be 
watching  the  overseer  as  if  suspecting  treachery.  "I  watch 
'im  too,"  the  negro  soliloquized.  "Ef  he  play  eny  debil 
trick  he  hissef  gwine  ter  de  debil  sud'n." 


CHUNK'S   QUEST  201 

Scoville  was  indeed  anxious  about  his  position,  for  while 
he  believed  that  Whately  was  scarcely  capable  of  transcend- 
ing the  usages  of  war,  he  knew  well  that  opportunity  only 
limited  the  malignity  of  Perkins.  He  therefore  rarely  took 
his  eyes  from  this  personal  enemy. 

For  his  own  sake  and  that  of  the  guards,  Perkins  aided 
in  building  a  fire,  for  in  the  continued  rain  all  were  chilled. 
As  Chunk  saw  the  leaping  flames  and  the  lantern  so  placed 
that  its  rays  fell  on  Scoville,  he  was  almost  in  despair  of 
any  chance  for  rescue,  but  believed  that  his  best  course 
was  to  watch  for  some  change  which  promiged  better.  He 
remembered  how  Scoville  had  employed  the  hootings 
of  the  screech-owl  as  a  signal,  and  resolved  by  the  same 
means  to  prepare  the  prisoner  for  co-operation  with  any 
effort  in  his  behalf.  Therefore  he  hooted  softly  and  was 
glad  to  see  from  Scoville' s  alert  yet  wary  manner  that  he 
had  recognized  the  signal. 

So  intent  was  Chunk  in  watching  his  master  that  he  did 
not  hear  the  steps  of  a  bewildered  Confederate  who  stum- 
bled over  him  and  fell  headlong  with  a  volley  of  oaths. 
The  negro  employed  woful  strategy  to  mislead  the  soldier, 
for  he  grunted  like  a  pig,  thus  awakening  hopes  of  more 
fried  pork.  The  result  was  immediate  pursuit  by  all  within 
hearing,  and  Chunk  with  difficulty  escaped  by  the  aid  of 
darkness  and  his  complete  familiarity  with  the  place. 
When  at  last  he  found  himself  secure  he  panted,  "Mout 
ez  well  be  took  fer  Chunk  ez  a  hog.  Stand  des  ez  good  a 
charnce.     Won't  try  dat  ar  game  agin." 

He  was  now  sorely  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do,  and  his 
nerves  were  somewhat  shaken  by  his  narrow  escape.  At 
last  he  resolved  to  send  his  granny  to  Miss  Lou  and  consult 
with  the  girl.  Accordingly,  he  stole  into  the  shrubbery  of 
the  garden  and  hooted  twice,  rightly  thinking  that  Scoville 
could  hear  the  signal  also  and  believe  that  something  might 
be  attempted  in  his  behalf.  Cowering  under  a  bush,  he 
soon  observed  Aun'  Jin  key  tottering  toward  the  house, 
muttering,  "Good  Lawd,  hep  us!"  as  she  went. 


202  **MISS  LOV 

As  the  excitement  of  battle  and  exultation  over  the  cap- 
ture of  Scoville  subsided  in  Whately's  mind  he  became 
excessivly  weary  and  his  exhausted  frame  suffered  from 
the  chill  and  wetness  of  the  night.  He  had  sought  to  keep 
up  by  liberal  potations  in  his  uncle's  dining-room,  but  was 
resolved  to  get  a  night's  sleep  if  possible.  He  had  urgently 
charged  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  over  the  prisoners  to  be 
vigilant.  When  Perkins  offered  to  share  in  this  watch 
Whately,  understanding  the  vindictive  motive,  felt  that  he 
need  give  himself  no  further  anxiety.  He  next  sought  his 
mother  and  obtained  a  little  food  which  the  lady  had 
brought  to  her  room. 

*' Where  is  Cousin  Lou  ?"  the  young  man  asked. 

"She  is  in  her  own  room,  and  with  Zany's  help  making 
bandages.  I  would  advise  you  not  to  see  her  again  to- 
night.    You  are  greatly  wearied. ' ' 

"Little  wonder,  after  riding  nearly  all  last  night,  and 
the  fighting  to-day." 

"Yes,  I  know,  and  have  thought  of  all  nearly  every  mo- 
ment. I  am  only  too  thankful  that  you  have  survived. 
You  have  gone  to  the  limit  of  human  endurance  and  must 
sleep.  The  less  you  and  Louise  say  to  each  other  for  a 
short  time  the  better.  After  you  have  both  grown  calmer 
and  have  had  a  chance  to  think  you  will  see  things  in  a 
different  light." 

"Mother,  do  you  think  I  mean  to  be  thwarted  by  that 
girl?  I  would  marry  her  now  from  pure  pride — for  the 
sake  of  humbling  her  and  teaching  her  that  she  made  the 
mistake  of  her  life  in  so  crossing  my  will  and  in  subjecting 
me  to  the  mortification  I  endured  this  morning." 

*' Madison!  actuated  by  such  motives,  you'll  never  win 
her!  If  you  will  closely  follow  my  advice  I  believe  you 
can  succeed.  I  must  tell  you  plainly  that  if  you  join  with 
brother  and  his  vj'ile  in  their  tactics  it  will  always  end  much 
as  it  did  this  morning." 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  have  that  cursed  Yankee  cub  that  she 
went  walking  with  in  my  power." 


CHUNK'S   QUEST  203 

"What!     Lieutenant  Scoville?" 

"Yes;  he's  a  prisoner  and  Perkins  is  helping  watch 
him." 

"Then  J  implore  you  not  to  let  Louise  know  it.  She 
saw  that  this  Scoville  might  have  killed  you.  She  is  merely 
friendly  toward  him  because,  instead  of  treating  us  rudely, 
as  she  was  led  to  believe  he  would,  he  was  very  polite  and 
considerate  when  we  were  in  his  power.  That  wretch  Per- 
kins tried  to  shoot  him  to-day  and  probably  would  have 
succeeded  but  for  Louise,"  and  she  narrated  the  circum- 
stances. 

Her  son  frowned  only  the  darker  from  jealousy  and 
anger. 

"Oh,  Madison!  why  won't  you  see  things  as  they  are  ?" 
his  mother  resumed.  "If  you  had  treated  this  Yankee 
officer  with  kindness  and  thanked  him  for  his  leniency 
toward  us,  you  would  have  taken  a  long  step  in  her  favor. 
If  you  were  trying  to  make  her  hate  you,  how  could  you 
set  about  it  more  skilfully?" 

"Mother,"  he  replied  doggedly,  "if  Lou  had  married 
me,  even  if  she  had  yielded  reluctantly,  I  would  have  been 
her  slave;  but  she  has  defied  me,  humiliated  and  scoffed  at 
me,  and  I  shall  never  whine  and  fawn  for  her  favor  again. 
I  don't  believe  it  would  be  of  any  use.  If  I  should  change 
my  tactics  she  would  only  despise  and  laugh  at  me. 
What's  more,  my  very  nature  revolts  at  such  a  change. 
I  can't  and  won't  make  it.  She  shall  learn  to  fear  me. 
Women  marry  for  fear  as  well  as  love.  This  Scoville  gives 
me  a  chance  to  teach  her  the  first  lesson.  He  shall  be  sent 
by  daylight  to  a  Southern  prison  and  that  will  be  the  last 
of  him.  Lou  shall  learn,  as  all  will  find  out,  that  it's  poor 
policy  to  thwart  me.  That  major  who  interfered  so  impu- 
dently in  our  affairs  is  dead." 

"Oh,  Madison!" 

"You  needn't  look  so.  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
There  were  plenty  of  Yankee  bullets  flying  to-day.  All 
I  mean  to  say  is  that  it  will  prove  serious  for  any  one  to 


204  ''MISS   LOU" 

cross  my  path.  Fate  is  on  the  side  of  a  man  who  will  have 
his  own  way,  and  Lou  will  discover  this  fact  sooner  or 
later." 

Poor  Mrs.  Whately  was  compelled  to  rate  these  vapor- 
ings  at  their  true  worth,  seeing  that  between  wine,  anger 
and  long-indulged  arrogance,  he  was  in  a  melodramatic 
mood  and  beyond  reason:  so  she  only  said  soothingly, 
''Please  never  let  Louise  know  that  I  was  aware  of  Sco- 
ville's  captivity.  After  you  have  rested  and  have  had  time 
to  think  you  will  see  things  differently.  I  warn  you  how- 
ever against  Perkins,"  she  added  solemnly.  "If  you  iden- 
tify yourself  with  him  in  any  way  you  may  involve  yourself 
and  all  of  us  in  ruin.  Now  come,  I  will  make  a  bed  for  you 
at  the  end  of  the  hall  near  my  room,  and  you  had  better 
sleep  while  you  can. ' ' 

He  readily  acquiesced,  for  even  his  lurid  schemes  for  the 
future  could  keep  him  awake  no  longer.  In  a  few  moments 
he  was  sleeping  soundly  on  a  mattress,  wrapped  in  a  blanket. 
His  uniform  was  hung  on  "the  back  of  a  chair  near  him 
to  dry. 


A    BOLD   SCHEME  205 


•    CHAPTEE   XXIII 

A   BOLD   SCHEME 

A  UN'  JINKEY  gained  Miss  Lou's  room  in  safety,  but 
panting  so  from  fright  and  exhaustion  as  to  be  for  a 
few  moments  utterly  incapable  of  speech.  The  girl 
divined  that  something  serious  was  to  be  told.  To  her 
questioning  look,  the  old  mammy  nodded,  glancing  mean- 
time at  Zany  as  much  as  to  say,  "We  should  be  alone." 
This  quick-witted  negress,  consumed  with  curiosity  about 
Chunk,  and  some  deeper  interest,  resolved  not  to  be  sent 
away. 

"Why  you  look  dat  away  at  Miss  Lou,  Aun'  Jin  key  ?" 
Zany  asked  indignantly.  "Time  you  knowed  dat  Miss  Lou 
trus'  me  en  I  ain'  doin'  not'n  ter  loss  dat  trus'.  She  know 
bettah'n  you  dat  ef  dars  eny  ting  t^r  be  done  I  de  one  ter 
he'p." 

"We  can  trust  Zany,"  whispered  Miss  Lou,  who  had  be- 
come very  pale.  ' '  You  have  some  news  about  Lieutenant 
Scoville?" 

"Well,  on'y  dis,.  honey.  Chunk  lookin'  fer  'im.  Marse 
Scoville  didn't  come  back  fum  dat  las'  fight,  he  say,  en  he 
say  ter  me  dat  ef  he  toot  twiced  lak  a  squinch-owl  dat  mean 
I  go  ter  you,  fer  he  need  yo'  he'p.  He  des  done  tooted," 
and  Ann'  Jinkey  repeated  all  of  her  grandson's  words  as  far 
as  she  could  remember  them. 

Miss  Lou  thought  a  few  moments  and  her  face  grew  very 
resolute.  "Aun'  Jinkey,"  she  said,  "tell  Chunk  I  will  do 
as  he  wishes,  but  he  must  act  carefully  and  not  too  hastily. 
Cousin  Mad  is  already  asleep.     One  after  another  will  fol- 


206  ''MISS    LOW 

low  his  example,  and  fewer  will  be  around  by  and  by.  We 
must  take  no  risks  that  can  be  helped.  The  fact  that  he 
wishes  to  see  me  in  this  secret  way  is  pretty  good  proof  that 
the  lieutenant  is  a  prisoner.  If  he  were  wounded  or — or — " 
but  a  rush  of  tears  suggested  the  word  she  could  not  utter. 
"You  had  better  go  now,  and  let  no  one  frighten  you  into 
telling  anything.     Appeal  to  me  if  threatened." 

As  the  old  woman  was  stealing  out  she  met  Mrs.  Baron, 
who  asked  sharply,  "What  do  you  want?" 

"Does  you  tink  I  doan  wanter  know  dat  chile  is  safe  ?" 

"If  you  wish  to  be  safe  yourself,  see  to  it  you  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  that  grandson  of  yours.  He  has  sinned 
away  his  day  of  grace,  and  no  mercy  will  be  shown  to  those 
who  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him." 

"I  years  you,  misus,"  said  Aun'  Jinkey,  stolidly  continu- 
ing on  her  way. 

Miss  Lou,  who  had  followed  her  mammy  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  heard  this  warning  and  returned  to  her  room  with 
a  stern  look.  She  deemed  it  best  to  say  nothing  and  give 
the  impression  that  she  could  not  endure  the  sights  and 
sounds  below  stairs. 

Mrs.  Whately  entered  soon  afterward  and  did  her  best  to 
propitiate  her  niece.  Miss  Lou  pretended  to  be  very  weary 
and  was  glad  to  see  that  her  aunt  actually  was  so.  At  last 
the  matron  said,  "Well,  I'll  go  down  once  more  and  see  if 
there  is  anything  which  I  must  attend  to;  then  I  shall  try 
to  rest  a  little  while  Madison  is  sleeping.  Such  experiences 
as  we've  had  wear  one  out  fast.  I  advise  you,  too,  my  dear, 
to  sleep  when  you  can." 

"Yes,  aunt,  I  suppose  you  are  right.  So  much  may  hap- 
pen to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Whately  soon  retired,  and  Miss  Lou,  listening  at 
her  door  a  moment,  knew  that  she  was  sleeping.  Then  she 
returned  to  her  own  room,  blew  out  her  candle,  opened  the 
window  softly  and  waited  for  Chunk.  "Zany,"  she  said, 
"sit  in  the  dark  there,  and  do  not  speak  or  let  Chunk  know 
you  are  here,  unless  permitted. ' ' 


A    BOLD   SCHEME  207 

Along  the  most  secluded  end  of  the  house  the  piazza  had 
not  been  built,  a  small  lean-to  extension  taking  its  place. 
An  apartment  was  thus  formed  which  could  be  entered 
from  without  as  well  as  from  within  the  dwelling,  and 
here  Mr.  Baron  maintained  what  was  at  once  a  business 
office  and  a  study.  This  extension  was  but  one  story  high, 
with  a  roof  which  sloped  to  rising  ground  beyond.  Chunk 
knew  that  he  could  easily  gain  this  roof,  and  from  it  that  of 
the  front  piazza  also.  When  returning  through  the  garden 
Aun'  Jinkey  had  whispered  to  him  not  to  make  the  attempt 
to  see  Miss  Lou  until  her  light  was  extinguished.  Then  she 
added  the  words  that  Mrs.  Baron  had  just  spoken  to  her  and 
hastened  tremblingly  to  her  own  chimney-corner.  Chunk 
made  a  wide  circle,  approaching  the  house  again  at  an  angle 
which  would  give  him  a  view  of  Miss  Lou's  window,  and 
watching  till  it  darkened.  From  the  garden  he  had  carried 
a  small,  light  ladder  which  he  had  used  when  pruning  fruit- 
trees.  He  stole  near  the  extension  warily,  the  shrubbery 
growing  in  that  vicinity  favoring  his  effort,  and  the  heavy 
pall  of  clouds  obscuring  almost  entirely  the  mild  radiance 
of  the  moon. 

Satisfied  by  a  careful  reconnoissance  that  no  one  was 
watching  or  stirring  at  that  end  of  the  house,  with  the 
stealth  and  agility  of  a  cat  he  went  from  roof  to  roof  and 
crawled  to  Miss  Lou's  window. 

"Chunk,"  she  whispered. 

"Dat's  me,  mistis." 

"You're  a  good,  brave  fellow.  Now  tell  me  quick — 
don't  waste  a  word — where  is  Lieutenant  Scoville?" 

"He's  wid  de  pris'ners,  en  Perkins  en  sogers  watchin' 
'im." 

"Why  is  Perkins  watching  him  ?"  the  girl  asked  in  deep 
alarm. 

"Dunno,  Miss  Lou,  'cept  on  'count  ob  he  grudge.  Mad 
Whately  en  he  talk  knowin'-like  en  den  Perkins  tek  he  lan- 
tern en  jine  de  gyard.  W'en  I  las'  see  'im  he  watchin'  Marse 
Scoville  close." 


208  ''MISS    LOW 

"Lieutenant  Scoville  wasn't  hurt,  was  he?'' 

"Reck'n  not.  Didn't  'pear  dat  away,  but  he  look  at 
Perkins  ez  ef  he  feared  on  'im.  Ef  I  had  onj  Perkins  ter 
deal  wid  1  gib  Marse  Scoville  he  freedom  in  pay  fer  mine, 
but  dar's  sogers  all  aroun'  en  dey  stick  me  quick  ez  dey 
would  a  pig." 

"Oh,  Chunk!  what  shall  we  do?  I  could  have  no  in- 
fluence over  the  guard  or  Perkins  either.  Oh!  oh/  Mad 
Whately,  you'll  end  by  making  me  loathe  you.  To  think 
of  employing  that  treacherous  wretch!" 

"Dat's  des  w'at  I  feard  on.  Miss  Lou.  Reck'n  yo' 
cousin  en  Perkins  projeckin'  some  debil  trick." 

"You  say  my  cousin  has  charge  of  the  prisoners?" 

"Yassum.  I  yeared  'im  gib  de  orders  'bout  um.  but  I 
too  fur  off  ter  year  w'at  he  say." 

"Can  you  think  of  any  way,  Chunk?" 

"Ef  de  gyard  ony  all  get  ter  sleep,  I'd  tek  de  risk  ob 
tacklin'  Perkins,  but  dere's  too  many  en  I  des  stumped  ter 
know  w'at  ter  do." 

"Hi!  Miss  Lou,"  whispered  listening  Zany,  "I  kin  tell 
you  w'at  ter  do." 

"Doan  you  pay  no  'tention  ter  her  foolishness,"  said 
Chunk  coolly.  "Dis  life-en-death  business,  en  Zany  out- 
growed  her  sense." 

"En  you  ain'  growed  into  your'n,"  responded  Zany. 
"Ef  you  has,  why  doan  you  tell  Miss  Lou  'bout  tings  dat 
kin  be  done  'stead  o  tings  dat  kyant  be  ?" 

"Well,  Zany,  what  have  you  to  say  ?  Quick,  and  speak 
lower." 

"Miss  Lou,  dar's  Mad  Whately's  coat  en  pants  hangin' 
out  in  de  hall.  You  put  dem  on,  en  tie  yo'  arm  up  in  a 
sling.     In  de  night  who  say  you  ain  Marse  Whately  ?" 

"Oh,  Zany!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  appalled  at  first  by  the 
boldness  of  the  scheme. 

"Well,  dar  now,"  whispered  Chunk,  "who'd  tink  dat  ar 
gyurl  got  so  much  gumption!  See  yere.  Miss  Lou,  dat  de 
way  ef  you  got  de  spunk  ter  do  it.     Ole  Perkins  tink  you 


A    BOLD   SCHEME  209 

Mad  Whately  comin'  ter  play  de  debil  trick  en  let  you  tek 
Marse  Scoville  way  quietly,  en  de  gyard  won'  'fere  wid  you 
nudder,  kase  dey  un'er  yo'  cousin.  You  kin  go  en  lead 
Marse  Scoville  right  off,  en  if  Perkins  follow  I  settle  'im." 

"Do  you  think  there's  no  other  way  ?"  Miss  Lou  asked, 
with  quick,  agitated  breathing. 

'''Fo'  de  Lawd,  1  doesn't." 

''I  don't  know  what  they  would  do  to  me  in  the  morn- 
ing, I'd  be  sent  away.  Oh,  you  can't  realize  the  risk  1 
would  take." 

" 'Spects  not,  mistis.  I  ony  know  Marse  Scoville  tek 
mo'  resk  fer  you  ef  he  could." 

Chunk  had  touched  the  right  chord  now.  She  set  her 
white  face  like  flint  in  the  darkness,  and- said,  "I'll  make 
the  attempt,  no  matter  what  happens  to  me." 

"Den  I  des  sneak  out  en  get  he  coat  en  trousers,"  Zany 
whispered. 

"Yes." 

"En,  Miss  Lou,  you  des  come  out  de  house  dis  away 
wid  me  en  Zany,"  Chunk  added.  "Less  charnce  er  bein' 
stopped.  We  kin  go  troo  de  gyardin  end  de  bushes  till  we 
mos'  whar  we  kin  see  Marse  Scoville.  Mebbe  hit  berry 
much  plainer  w'at  ter  do  arter  we  get  out  en  look  roun'. 
I  hab  a  ladder  yere  en  you  git  down  mighty  easy. ' ' 

"Yes,  that's  the  best  way.  I  wish  to  take  no  risks  of 
being  seen  till  after  I  make  my  attempt. ' ' 

Zany  reconnoitred  the  hall.  No  one  was  in  sight.  Even 
Mrs.  Baron,  wearied  out,  had  retired,  and  Mr.  Baron  had 
resolved  to  spend  the  night  in  the  dining-room,  partly  out 
of  courtesy  to  the  Confederate  general  and  partly  to  be 
ready  for  any  emergency.  In  the  hall  and  on  the  front 
and  rear  piazzas  were  alert  sentinels  who  would  have  ob- 
served and  reported  any  unusual  proceeding — therefore 
Chunk's  plan  was  the  only  feasible  one.  In  the  darkness 
Zany  helped  Miss  Lou  don  her  cousin's  uniform  and  slouched 
hat  which,  limp  from  the  rain,  fell  over  her  face.  She  was 
not  so  very  much  shorter  than  he  as  to  make  the  fit  a  bad 


210  *'M1SS    LOV 

one  when  seen  in  the  partial  light.  The  trousers  had  to  be 
turned  up,  but  that  would  be  expected  on  account  of  the 
mud.  Her  plumpness  filled  out  the  coat  very  comfortably, 
and  her  arm  in  a  sling  made  the  disguise  almost  perfect. 

While  Miss  Lou  was  dressing  Chunk  again  reconnoitred 
and  reported  the  coast  clear.  It  was  now  about  midnight 
and  all  were  sleeping  except  those  whom  imperative  duty 
or  pain  kept  awake.  Chunk  led  the  way,  steadying  Miss 
Lou  with  a  firm  hand,  and  Zany  followed. 

"Now,  Miss  Lou,"  Chunk  whispered,  "I  tek  you  de 
s'curest  way,  so  you  git  back  en'  nobody  see  you  ef  I  git 
cotched." 

They  made  a  circuit  to  avoid  the  kitchen  and  climbed 
over  a  low  fence  into  the  garden.  On  the  further  side, 
opening  on  the  driveway  to  the  stables,  was  a  gate.  Be- 
fore reaching  this.  Miss  Lou  said  to  Zany,  "You  stay  here. 
If  there's  an  alarm,  go  to  the  kitchen.  You  must  not  be 
known  to  have  had  anything  to  do  with  this  affair.  It 
might  cost  you  your  life." 

"Ve'y  well,  Miss  Lou." 

The  young  girl  and  her  guide  paused  at  the  gate  some 
moments,  for  attendants  upon  the  wounded,  with  whom  the 
outbuildings  were  filled,  were  passing  to  and  fro.  At  last 
they  stole  across  the  roadway  to  the  shelter  of  a  clump  of 
trees  beyond.  From  this  point  they  could  see  the  group 
of  prisoners  about  the  fire,  which  was  in  a  rather  dying 
condition.  It  was  evident  that  some  of  the  guards  had  suc- 
cumbed to  weariness,  but  Perkins  still  watched  with  the 
tirelessness  of  hate,  his  lantern  so  placed  that  its  rays  fell 
on  Scoville,  who  could  not  make  a  movement  without  being 
observed.  Indeed,  it  was  clear  that  he,  too,  was  almost 
overcome  with  sleep,  for  he  occasionally  nodded  and 
swayed  before  the  fire. 

"Now,  Miss  Lou,"  whispered  Chunk,  "I  gwine  ter  wake 
Marse  Scoville  up  by  tootin'  lak  a  squinch-owl,"  and  he  did 
so  briefly. 

The  Union  officer  was  much  too  wary  to  start  and  look 


A    BOLD    SCHEME  211 

around,  but  he  gradually  proved  that  he  was  alert.  Close 
scrutiny  of  Perkins  showed  that  the  signal  had  no  signifi- 
cance to  him. 

"Miss  Lou,"  resumed  Chunk,  "dere's  not'n  fer  you  but 
ter  walk  right  down  de  road  ter  de  fire,  berry  quiet  like, 
put  yo'  finger  on  yo'  lips  ter  Perkins  so  he  tink  you  'bout 
ter  play  de  debil  trick,  en'  den  lead  Marse  Scoville  into  de 
gyardin.  Ef  Perkins  f oiler,  I  f oiler  'im.  My  hoss  down 
by  de  run  en  we  git  off  dat  away." 

The  girl  drew  a  long  breath  and  started.  Now  that  she 
was  in  the  crisis  of  the  emergency  a  certain  innate  spirit  and 
courage  sustained  her.  Knowing  her  cousin  so  well,  she 
could  assume  his  very  gait  and  manner,  while  her  arm,  car- 
ried in  a  sling,  perfected  a  disguise  which  only  broad  light 
would  have  rendered  useless.  Her  visit  caused  no  surprise 
to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard,  on  whom  at  first  she  kept  her 
eyes.  He  merely  saluted  and  thought  Lieutenant  Wbately 
was  attentive  to  his  duty.  Perkins  was  not  surprised  either, 
yet  a  little  perplexed.  As  it  had  been  supposed  and  hoped, 
the  thought  rose  instantly  in  his  revengeful  nature  that  the 
Confederate  officer  had^  some  design  on  Scoville.  The  lat- 
ter watched  the  form  recognized  by  the  others  as  that  of 
Whately  with  the  closest  scrutiny,  and  an  immense  throb 
of  hope  stirred  his  heart.     Could  it  be  possible  ? 

Miss  Lou  looked  over  the  sleeping  prisoners  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then,  as  if  satisfied,  stepped  quite  near  to  Per- 
kins, guarding  meantime  not  to  permit  the  rays  of  the  lamp 
to  fall  on  her  face.  "Leave  him  to  me,"  she  whispered, 
with  a  nod  toward  Scoville,  and  she  put  her  finger  to  her 
lips.  She  next  touched  Scoville  on  the  shoulder  and  simply 
said,  "Come." 

He  rose  as  if  reluctantly  and  followed. 

Perkins  did  not  suspect  the  ruse,  the  disguise  was  so 
good  and  Whately 's  right  to  appear  so  unquestioned;  but 
he  felt  defrauded  in  having  no  part  in  the  vengeance  which 
he  supposed  would  be  wreaked  on  Scoville.  After  a  mo- 
ment or  two  of  thought,  he  obeyed  the  impulse  to  follow, 


212  *'MISS     laOW 

hoping  to  see  what  Whately  intended  to  do,  and  if  circum- 
stances warranted,  to  be  near  to  help.  "If  Mad  Whately 's 
high-strung  notions  lead  'im  to  fight  a  duel,"  he  thought, 
*'en  the  Yank  comes  off  best,  I'll  settle  my  own  score. 
Whately  was  ter'ble  stirred  up  'bout  the  Yank's  talkin'  ter 
his  cousin,  en  would  like  ter  kill  'im,  but  his  officer-notions 
won't  let  'im  kill  the  blue-coated  cuss  ez  I  would.  Ef  thar's 
ter  be  a  fight,  I  won't  be  fur  off,"  and  he  stole  after  the  two 
figures  disappearing  in  the  gloom. 

But  Nemesis  was  on  his  steps.  Chunk  had  shaken  with 
silent  laughter  as  he  saw  that  their  scheme  was  working 
well,  but  he  never  took  his  eyes  from  Perkins.  Crouching, 
crawling,  he  closed  on  the  overseer's  track,  and  when  the 
man  passed  into  the  garden,  the  negro  followed. 

As  Scoville  accompanied  Miss  Lou,  he  soon  ventured  to 
breathe  her  name  in  a  tentative  way.  "Hush!"  she  whis- 
pered. Then  his  heart  beat  thick  with  overpowering  emo- 
tions of  gratitude,  admiration  and  love.  Entering  the  gar- 
den, she  led  the  way  quickly  toward  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin, 
and  at  a  point  where  the  shrubbery  was  thickest  about  the 
path,  turned  suddenly,  put  her  finger  on  her  lips,  and 
breathed,  "Listen." 

They  distinctly  heard  steps  following  and  drew  back  into 
the  bushes.  Then  came  the  thud  of  a  blow  and  the  heavy 
fall  of  a  man.  The  blow  was  so  severe  that  not  even  a  groan 
followed,  and  for  a  moment  all  was  still.  Then  Chunk,  like 
a  shadow,  glided  forward  and  would  have  passed  had  not 
Miss  Lou  whispered  his  name. 

"Foller  me,"  he  answered  breathlessly. 

This  they  did,  but  Scoville  secured  the  girl's  hand  and 
carried  it  to  his  lips.  The  negro  led  the  way  beyond  the 
garden  to  the  run,  where  he  had  left  his  horse.  "Lis'n  onct 
mo',"  he  said.     "Dat  was  Perkins  I  laid  out." 

All  was  still..  "Chunk,"  said  Scoville,  "go  back  on 
your  tracks  a  little  and  see  if  there  are  any  signs  of 
alarm." 

Obedience  was  very  prompt,  for  Chunk  muttered  as  he 


Jl    BOLD   SCHEME  '^ISf 

ran,  "My  heart  des  bustin'  'bout  Zany.     Got  ter  lebe  her 
now,  sho!     Ter  thunk  ob  her  showin'  so  much  gumption!" 

Scoville  again  took  Miss  Lou's  hands.  "Oh,  hasten, 
hasten,"  she  said  breathlessly,  "you  are  in  great  danger 
here." 

"I  can  scarcely  speak  to  you,"  he  replied,  "my  heart  is 
so  full.  You  brave,  noble  little  girl !  How  have  you  accom- 
plished this  ?" 

Incoherently  she  told  him  and  again  urged,  "Oh,  do  go 
at  once,  for  my  sake  as  well  as  yours,  or  all  may  be  in  vain. 
I  can't  breathe  until  I've  put  back  my  cousin's  uniform." 

Now  that  the  supreme  crisis  of  danger  had  apparently 
passed  for  tbe  moment,  she  was  trembling  violently  in  ner- 
vous reaction,  and  could  speak  only  in  little  gasps.  Every 
instant  a  deeper  appreciation  of  the  immense  effort  she  had 
made  in  his  behalf  overwhelmed  Scoville,  and  for  a  moment 
he  lost  all  self-control.  Snatchinsr  her  to  his  breast  he  whis- 
pered, "Oh,  you  little  hero,  you  little  saint,  I  wish  I  could 
shield  you  with  my  life.  I  don't  believe  you  half  realize 
what  you  have  done  for  me,  bravest,  truest,  sweetest — " 

"Oh,  hush,"  she  pleaded,  extricating  herself  from  his 
arms-     "Go,  please  go  at  once,  for  my  sake." 

"Yes,  my  dear  girl,  I  must  go  soon,  more  for  your  sake 
than  mine.  With  this  horse  and  this  start,  I  am  safe.  Oh, 
it's  terribly  hard  to  leave  you."  Then  he  hooted  low  to 
recall  Chunk.  "Don't  tremble  so.  After  all,  it's  best 
to  wait  a  few  moments  to  make  sure  there  is  no  pursuit. 
Thank  God,  after  what  you  have  done  for  me  to-night  you 
will  never  forget  me,  you  will  always  care  for  me.  Again 
I  see  as  never  before  how  true  it  is  that  a  woman  cares  most 
for  him  whom  most  she  has  tried  to  help.  You  have  risked 
much  for  me;  I  give  all  to  you.  Only  death  can  keep  me 
from  seeking  you  and  living  for  you  always.  Eemember,  I 
ask  nothing  which  your  own  heart  does  not  prompt,  but 
you  cannot  help  my  giving  undying  loyalty.  See,  I  just 
kneel  to  you  in  homage  and  gratitude.  There  never  was 
such  a  gem  of  a  girl." 


214  '*MISS  LOW 

Chunk  now  appeared,  recalled  from  a  more  affectionate 
parting  than  Zany  had  ever  vouchsafed  before,  and  he  began 
to  unhitch  the  horse. 

*' Chunk  must  go  back  with  you,"  Scoville  began. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  whispered,  "I  cannot  breathe  till  you 
both  are  well  away.     Chunk  would  be  killed  instantly — " 

**No  matter;  he  has  become  a  soldier  like  myself  and 
must  take  all  risks.  I  will  not  leave  this  spot — I  will  go 
with  you  myself,  rather  than  leave  you  here." 

"Why,  ob  co'se  I  'spects  ter  go  back  wid  you,  Miss 
Lou.  You  tink  I  gwine  ter  lebe  you  yere  en  dat  ladder  dar 
ter  tell  de  hull  business ?     Come  wid  me." 

"Well,  then,  good-by,  and  God  keep  you,  Lieutenant. 
I  shall  hope  to  see  you  again." 

"To  see  you  again  will  be  my  dearest  hope.  Dear,  dear 
little  Lou!  how  brave  you've  been!  You've  won  a  sol- 
dier's whole  heart  forever.  How  can  I  say  good-by?  You 
can't  dream  how  dear  you  have  become  to  me.  Please,  one 
kiss  before  we  separate. "  • 

Yielding  to  an  impulse  then  not  understood,  she  put  her 
arm  swiftly  about  his  neck,  kissed  him,  and  turned  so 
rapidly  toward  her  home  that  Chunk  could  scarcely  keep 
pace  with  her. 

They  reached  the  ladder  unobserved,  and  from  the  roof 
of  the  extension  the  way  to  Miss  Lou's  room  was  easy. 
Chunk  went  to  a  point  from  which  he  could  watch  the  girl 
enter  her  apartment.  Putting  the  ladder  back  into  the  gar- 
den, he  rejoined  Scoville,  and  together  they  made  their  way 
in  the  direction  of  the  retiring  Union  column.  Scoville 
never  wearied  in  questioning  his  attendant  about  every  de- 
tail of  Miss  Lou's  action,  while  conjectures  as  to  her  experi- 
ences often  robbed  him  of  sleep.  Never  was  a  man  more 
completely  won  and  held  in  love's  sweet  thraldom. 

On  regaining  her  room.  Miss  Lou  hastily  threw  off  her 
cousin's  clothes  and  resumed  her  own  apparel.  Then  she 
softly  and  cautiously  opened  her  door.  With  the  exception 
of  sounds  in  the  lower  hall,  all  was  still,  and  she  slipped  out 


A    BOLD    SCHEME  215 

in  her  stocking-feet,  replaced  the  uniform  on  the  chairs, 
stole  back  and  bolted  her  door.  For  half  an  hour  she  sat 
panting  on  her  chair,  listening  to  every  sound.  Only  the 
groans  of  the  wounded  smote  her  ears.  ' '  Oh,  thank  God ! 
I  do  not  hesLY  his  voice  among  them,"  she  half  sobbed,  in 
pity  for  those  who  were  suffering.  "  Well,  I  can  best  forget 
my  anxiety  about  him  by  doing  something  for  these  poor 
men.  Oh,  how  strange  and  true  his  words  are!  He  touched 
my  heart  at  first  by  just  being  helpless  when  he  fell  by  the 
run,  and  everything  1  do  for  him  seems  to  make  him  dearer. 
It  cannot  be  that  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  Oh,  when 
shall  1  forget  the  way  he  took  me  in  his  arms  ?  It  seemed 
as  if  he  gave  me  his  whole  heart  then  and  couldn't  help 
himself." 

There  was  a  near  mutter  of  thunder.  In  her  deep  pre- 
occupation she  had  not  noticed  the  coming  of  another 
shower.  It  proved  a  short  but  heavy  one,  and  she  ex- 
ulted.    "The  rain  will  obliterate  all  our  tracks." 

Calmer  thought  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the  affair 
would  be  very  serious  for  her  if  her  part  in  it  was  dis- 
covered. She  had  acted  almost  without  thought,  without 
realizing  the  risks  she  had  incurred,  and  now  the  possible 
consequences  so  appalled  her  that  she  resolved  to  be  on  her 
guard  in  every  possible  way.  "He  knew,  he  understood 
the  risk  I  took  better  than  I  did  then,  better  than  I  do  now, 
perhaps,"  she  breathed  softly.  "That's  so  fine  in  him — that 
way  he  has  of  making  me  feel  that  one's  worth  being  cared 
for. ' '  She  was  far  too  excited  and  anxious  to  sleep.  Wrap- 
ping herself  up,  she  watched  at  her  window.  Soon  the  stars 
began  to  twinkle  beneath  the  clouds  in  the  west,  showing 
that  this  last  shower  was  a  clearing  one,  and  that  the  radi- 
ance of  the  moon  might  soon  be  undimmed.  The  fires  along 
the  ridge  which,  as  she  believed,  still  defined  the  Union 
position,  were  burning  low.  Suddenly  flashes  and  reports 
of  firearms  in  that  direction  startled  her. 


216  *'MI8S  LOV" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A     HOME     A     HOSPITAL 

THE  sudden  night  alarm  caused  bj  firing  on  the  ridge 
can  be  easily  explained.  Wearied  as  were  the  Con- 
federate general  and  his  men,  and  severe  as  had  been 
the  repulse  of  their  first  attack,  both  were  undaunted  and, 
after  rest  and  refreshment,  eager  to  bring  the  battle  to  a 
more  decisive  issue,  and  it  was  determined  to  learn  long 
before  morning  whether  the  Federal  force  was  on  the  ridge 
or  not.  During  the  last  shower  a  reconnoitring  party  was 
sent  out  stealthily,  a  few  of  the  rear-guard  captured,  from 
whom  it  was  learned  that  the  Union  column  had  been  on 
the  march  for  hours. 

Mrs.  Whately  was  wakened  and  helped  her  disabled  son 
to  dress  in  haste.  Little  did  Miss  Lou  know  about  the  term 
alibi^  but  she  had  the  shrewdness  to  show  herself  and  to 
appear  much  alarmed.  Opening  her  door,  she  gave  a 
glimpse  of  herself  in  night  attire  with  her  long  hair  hanging 
over  her  shoulders,  and  cried,  "Oh,  oh,  are  we  attacked?" 

"If  we  are  you  may  have  sad  reason  to  wish  that  you 
had  obeyed  me  this  morning,"  replied  her  cousin  sternly. 
"You  no  more  understand  your  folly  and  danger  than  a 
child.  Now  I'm  compelled  to  look  after  my  prisoners 
first,"  and  he  rushed  away. 

'  *  Come  in  my  room,  Louise, ' '  said  her  aunt.  ' '  Whatever 
happens,  it  is  best  that  we  should  be  together. ' '  The  girl 
was  so  agitated,  fearing  that  in  some  way  her  adventures 
might  be  discovered,   that  she  had  no  occasion  to  feign 


A    HOME   A    HOSPITAL  217 

alarm.  Mrs.  Whately  sought  only  to  soothe  aud  quiet,  also 
to  extenuate  her  son's  words.  "I  don't  suppose  we  truly 
realize  yet,  as  Madison  does,  what  war  means,"  she  con- 
cluded. 

Mr.  Baron  soon  sent  up  word  that  there  was  no  special 
occasion  for  further  fears,  and  that  the  ladies  might  sleep, 
if  they  could,  until  morning. 

But  there  was  no  more  sleep  for  Mad  Whately.  As  soon 
as  he  reached  the  spot  where  the  prisoners  had  been  kept  he 
asked  sharply,  "  Where  is  that  Yankee  officer  and  Berkins  ?" 

The  man  then  on  duty  answered,  "The  sergeant  1  re- 
lieved said  that  you  took  'im  away,  sir,  and  that  the  man 
named  Perkins  followed  you." 

"There's  been  treachery  here,"  cried  Whately  in  a  rage. 
/'Bring  that  sergeant  here." 

The  weary  man  was  half  dragged  in  his  sleep  to  the 
officer  and  there  thoroughly  awakened  by  a  volley  of  oaths. 
He  stolidly  told  his  story,  concluding,  "I  cud  a  sworn  it  was 
you,  and  the  overseer  followed  less'n  three  minutes  after  you 
left." 

"  'I  left'— curse  you— don't  say  that  again.  You've 
been  fooled  or  was  asleep  and  neglected  your  duty." 

"Well,  then,  sir,"  was  the  dogged  reply,  "find  that 
overseer  who  was  a  watchin'  the  Yank  like  a  cat.  Ast 
'im;  ast  my  men  ef  I  wasn't  awake  en  ef  1  didn't  s'lute 
you  soon  ez  you  come.  There's  the  overseer's  lantern 
burnin'  yet  jis  whar  he  left  it." 

At  this  moment  Perkins  came  staggering  toward  the  fire, 
with  both  hands  to  his  head  as  if  trying  to  hold  it  together. 
His  clothes  were  muddy,  his  face  was  ghastly  and  he  stared 
at  Whately  as  if  the  officer  was  also  a  part  of  a  horrid 
dream. 

Whately  seized  him  roughly  by  the  arm  and  said  sternly, 
"Speak,  man.  What  does  all  this  mean?  Where's  the 
Yank?" 

"For  God's  sake,  quit,"  cried  Perkins.  "I'm  nigh  dead 
now.     You've  got  me  in  anuff  trouble  for  one  night." 

"Roe— IX— J 


218  ''MISS   LOU'' 

"Trouble — you  I  What's  your  trouble  to  mine?  I'm 
responsible  for  these  prisoners.  Now  where's  that  Yank? 
Quick,  or  you  will  have  trouble." 

"I  ain't  seen  'im  since  yer  took  'im  away — you.  I  ain't 
one  of  your  understrappers.  Ez  I  wuz  follerin'  yer  some 
one  knocked  me  down  from  behind  and  nigh  onto  killed 
me.     I  jes  gittin'  my  senses  back." 

Although  so  enraged,  Whately  knew  that  as  a  soldier  he 
must  curb  his  passion,  report  the  facts  immediately  and  see 
what  could  be  done.  His  superior  ofhcer  was  called,  all  the 
parties  questioned  closely,  the  garden  and  Aun'  Jinkey's 
cabin  searched,  but  no  new  facts  discovered.  The  old 
negress  was  savagely  threatened,  but  she  only  replied,  "I 
dunno,  I  dunno  not'n.  Wat  got  inter  you  ter  tink  an  ole 
tottery,  skeered  ooman  lak  me  gwine  out  in  de  dark  en 
knock  Marse  Perkins  on  de  haid?" 

"Where's  your  grandson,  Chunk?"  Whately  demanded 
fiercely. 

"He  des  light  out  wid  de  Yankees  dis  eb'nin'." 

The  conclusion  guessed  at  was  that  Scoville  had  been 
rescued  by  his  own  men,  who  were  known  to  be  daring 
scouts.  In  the  darkness  and  confusion  after  the  battle,  it 
was  thought  they  had  mingled  with  the  Confederates, 
learned  the  situation  of  their  leader  and  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  Whately  with  his  disabled  arm.  Arrayed  in 
the  Southern  uniform,  of  which  scouts  always  had  a  supply, 
and  favored  by  the  sleepy  condition  of  the  guard,  one  of 
the  scouts  had  played  the  trick  which  Whately  rued  so 
bitterly.  Others,  on  the  watch,  had  struck  down  Perkins 
and  carried  Scoville  off  in  safety.  No  other  theory  they 
could  hit-  upon  explained  so  well  what  was  known.  >  The 
tricked  sergeant  was  placed  under  arrest,  and  Whately, 
who  had  gone  to  sleep  with  such  high  and  mighty  notions 
of  his  prowess  and  friendly  league  with  fate,  found  himself 
in  partial  disgrace  and  in  the  depths  of  mortification.  He 
kept  guard  over  his  prisoners  in  person  the  remainder  of 
the  night  and  again  had  opportunity  to  repent  at  leisure. 


A    HOME   A    HOSPITAL  219 

He  mentally  cursed  himself  as  a  fool,  for  now  lie  remem- 
bered his  mother's  words.  If  he  had  shown  leniency  to 
Scoville,  and  brought  him  into  the  honse,  lie  might  have 
kept  the  prisoner  and  won  the  goodwill  of  his  cousin. 
Now,  she  would  probably  hear  the  humiliating  facts  and 
be  less  inclined  either  to  fear  or  favor  him.  It  was  well 
that  no  suspicion  on  his  part  or  that  of  others  had  fallen 
on  her,  for  she  was  not  one  who  could  face  coolly  a  severe 
cross-questioning. 

Perkins  skulked  off  to  his  house,  assuaged  his  aching 
head  with  cold  water  and  his  wounded  spirit  with  whiskey. 
As  he  tried  to  think  the  matter  over  a  vague  suspicion  of 
the  truth  began  to  enter  bis  confused  brain.  The  little 
slipper  with  which  he  had  been  hit  over  the  eyes  in  the 
morning  now  became  a  broad  hint.  He  knew  well,  how- 
ever, that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  make  any  charges,  or 
even  suggestions,  unless  he  had  ample  proof. 

When  all  became  quiet  again  Miss  Lou,  in  spite  of  deep 
anxieties,  was  overcome  by  extreme  weariness  and  slept 
until,  in  a  dream,  she  heard  Scoville  moaning  and  sighing 
in  the  extremity  of  physical  pain.  Starting  up,  she  saw  it 
was  broad  day.  She  passed  her  hand  confusedly  over  her 
brow  and  tried  to  recall  what  had  occurred,  to  understand 
the  sounds  which  had  suggested  her  dream.  Then  in  a  flash, 
the  strange  swirl  of  events  in  which  she  was  involved  pre- 
sented itself  and  she  knew  she  bad  wakened  to  other  ex- 
periences beyond  even  her  imagination.  The  groans  of 
wounded  men  brought  pitiful  tears  to  her  eyes  and  steadied 
her  nerves  by  banishing  the  thought  of  self.  Whatever 
might  befall  her,  so  much  worse  was  the  fate  of  others  that 
already  she  was  passing  into  the  solemnity  of  spirit  inspired 
by  the  presence  of  mortal  pain  and  death.  She  drew  the 
curtains  of  her  window  and  then  shrank  back,  shuddering 
and  sobbing,  for,  scattered  over  the  lawn,  men  and  horses 
lay  stark  and  motionless.  More  pitiful  still,  here  and  there 
a  wounded  horse  was  struggling  feebly.  The  spring  morn- 
ing, dewy,  bright,  fragrant,  made  these  evidences  of  strife 


220  ''MISS   LOW* 

tenfold  more  ghastly.  There  could  not  be  a  more  terrible 
indictment  of  war  than  nature's  peaceful  loveliness. 

By  the  time  she  was  dressed  she  was  joined  by  Mrs. 
Whately,  who  looked  serious  indeed.  Before  they  could 
descend  to  the  lower  hall,  Madison,  haggard  and  gloomy 
of  aspect,  intercepted  them.  Looking  at  his  cousin's  red 
eyes  and  pale  face,  he  asked  abruptly,  "What's  th« 
matter?" 

"Do  you  think  I  am  accustomed  to  these  sights  and 
sounds?"  she  answered. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  her  heartless, 
"it's  an  old  story  to  me.  Mother,  I  must  speak  alone  with 
you  a  moment. " 

She  turned  back  with  him  to  her  room,  meantime  say- 
ing, "Louise,  I  do  not  think  you  had  Jbetter  go  down  with- 
out me." 

The  girl  tremblingly  returned  to  her  apartment,  fearing 
that  now  she  might  be  forced  to  confront  her  own  actions. 
But  she  was  conscious  of  a  sort  of  passive  courage.  Mad 
Whately 's  anger,  or  that  of  others,  was  a  little  thing  com- 
pared to  the  truth  that  men  were  dead  and  dying  all 
about  her. 

"Mother,"  said  her  son,  "I  had  cursed  luck  last  night. 
I  wish  1  had  slept  on  the  rain-soaked  ground  near  my  pris- 
oners," and  he  told  her  what  had  happened. 

"Oh,  Madison!"  sighed  Mrs.  Whately,  "I  wish  this  ex- 
perience would  teach  you  to  be  more  guided  by  me.  Louise 
cared  nothing  for  this  Yankee,  except  in  a  sort  of  grateful, 
friendly  way.  Through  him,  you  could  have  done  so  much 
to  disarm — " 

"Oh,  well,  mother,  the  milk  is  spilled.  If  possible,  let 
the  whole  affair  be  kept  from  her  knowledge." 

' '  Yes,  I  suppose  that  will  be  the  best  way.  If  she  hears 
about  it,  we  must  try  to  explain  by  the  usages  of  war.  Now, 
Madison,  you  are  cool.  Let  experience  be  your  teacher,  for 
you  must  face  the  truth.    You  must  either  give  her  up — " 

"I'll  never  give  her  up." 


A    HOME   A    HOSPITAL  221 

"Then,  as  Major  Brockton  said,  you  must  win  her  like 
a  Southern  gentleman.  Her  spirit  is  as  high  as  yours.  You 
can't  continue  to  speak  to  her  as  yoa  did  last  night  and  this 
morning.  Try  to  realize  the  facts.  In  the  seclusion  of  her 
bringing  up,  Louise  has  learned  nothing  of  the  convention- 
alities of  society  which  might  incline  her  toward  a  good 
match  on  general  principles.  So  far  from  this,  the  many 
old-fashioned  romances  she  has  read  have  made  her  feel 
that  she  must  and  will  have  her  romance.  If  you  can  make 
Louise  feel  that  you  love  her  so  well  as  to  become  her  gal- 
lant suitor,  circumstances  may  soon  give  you  great  advan- 
tages. She  may  be  cold  and  indifferent  for  a  time,  but  like 
all  passionate  high-strung  natures,  present  impulses  against 
xaay  turn  just  as  strongly  for  you.  At  least,  you  have  not 
to  contend  with  tllat  most  fatal  of  all  attitudes — indiffer- 
ence. A  great  change  in  you  will  be  a  flattering  tribute  to 
her  power  to  which  no  girl  would  be  indifferent.  I  must 
tell  you  now  once  for  all  that  I  will  not  again  assist  in  any 
high-handed  measures  against  Louise.  Not  only  the  futility 
of  such  action,  but  my  own  dignity  and  sense  of  right,  for- 
bid it.  I  did  not  understand  her  at  first.  Now  that  I  do, 
I  am  all  the  more  eager  to  call  her  daughter;  but  I  wish 
her  to  feel  toward  me  as  she  should  in  such  a  relation. 
Yesterday,  when  I  apologized  and  told  her  that  I  meant  to 
treat  her  with  kindne'ss  and  fairness,  she  kissed  me  like  the 
warm-hearted  girl  she  is.  I  will  help  you  win  her  as  a  man 
should  win  his  wife;  I  will  not  be  dragged  into  any  more 
false  positions  which  can  end  only  in  humiliation.  I  will 
be  your  tireless  ally  in  the  only  way  you  can  succeed,  but 
in  no  other." 

"Very  well,  mother,  I  agree,"  said  Whately,  whose 
nature  it  was  to  react  from  one  extreme  to  another. 

"Ah,  now  I  have  hope.     How  is  your  arm  ?" 

"It  pains  horribly." 

Mrs.  Whately  went  to  Miss  Lou's  room  and  said,  "Forgive 
me  for  keeping  you  waiting.  Madison  is  almost  beside  himself 
with  pain  in  his  arm,  and  I  will  be  detained  a  little  longer." 


222  ''MISS   LOU'' 

In  her  immense  relief  that  she  was  not  charged  with  all 
she  dreaded,  Miss  Lou  had  leisure  from  her  fears  to  feel 
commiseration  for  her  cousin.  When  at  last  he  appeared 
she  said  kindly,  "I  am  sorry  you  are  suffering  so  much." 

"If  I  thought  you  really  cared  I  wouldn't  mind  the 
pain,"  he  replied.  "Cousin  Lou,  I  owe  an  apology,  several, 
I  reckon,  but  I've  been  so  distracted  between  conflicting 
feelings,  duties  and  pain,  that  I  scarcely  know  what  I  say." 

"You  little  know  me  if  you  think  I'm  weighing  words 
at  this  time,"  she  replied.  "Come,  let  us  forget  the  past, 
shake  hands  and  remember  that  we  are  simply  cousins." 

He  took  her  hand  instantly,  but  said,  "You  ask  what  is 
impossible.  Suppose  you  had  said,  'Just  remember  your 
arm  is  well  from  this  moment,'  would  it  be  well?  I  cannot 
help  my  feelings  toward  you  and  don't  wish  to." 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  sighed,  "I  cannot  help  mine 
either.     I  don't  wish  to  talk  on  that  subject  any  more." 

VThen  I  must  plead  by  actions.     Well,  I  must  go  now." 

Mrs.  Whately  was  much  pleased,  for  her  son  was  adopt- 
ing just  the  course  she  desired.  She  added  nothing  and 
accompanied  Louise  downstairs. 

The  amputating  table  had  been  removed  and  the  halls 
cleansed,  but  the  unmistakable  odor  of  the  hospital  per- 
vaded the  house.  Every  apartment  on  the  first  floor  except 
the  dining-room  was  filled  with  the  wounded.  Some  were 
flushed  and  feverish  by  reason  of  their  injuries,  others, 
pallid  from  loss  of  blood  and  ebbing  vital  forces. 

The  Confederate  general,  with  his  staff,  had  already 
made  a  hasty  breakfast  and  departed;  through  the  open 
door  came  the  mellow  sound  of  bugles  and  the  songs  of 
birds,  but  within  were  irrepressible  sighs  and  groans.  Mrs. 
Whately  entered  the  spacious  parlor  on  the  floor  of  which 
Confederate  officers  lay  as  close  as  space  for  attendance 
upon  them  permitted.  The  young  girl  paused  on  the 
threshold  and  looked  around  with  a  pitying,  tearful  face. 
A  white-haired  colonel  was  almost  at  her  feet  As  he 
looked  up  and  recognized  her  expression,  a  pleased  smile 


A    HOME   A    HOSPITAL  228 

illumined  his  wan,  drawn  face.  "Don't  be  frightened,  my 
child,"  he  said  gently. 

The  swift  glance  of  her  secured  attention  took  in  his  con- 
dition. His  right  arm  was  gone  and  he  appeared  ghastly 
from  loss  of  blood.  In  her  deep  emotion  she  dropped  on 
her  knees  beside  him,  took  his  cold  hand  and  kissed  it  as 
she  said,  '* Please  let  me  help  you  and  others  get  well." 

The  old  man  was  strongly  touched  by  her  unexpected 
action,  and  he  faltered,  "Well,  my  child,  you  make  us  all 
feel  that  our  Southern  girls  are  worth  fighting  for  and,  if 
need  be,  dying  for.  Yes,  you  can  help  us,  some  of  us,  in 
our  dying  perhaps,  as  well  as  in  our  mending.  My  battles 
are  over.  You  can  help  best  by  caring  for  younger, 
stronger  men." 

"Such  men  will  not  begrudge  you  anything,  sir." 

"Bravo!  cried  half  a  dozen  voices,  and  an  officer  near 
added,  "Miss  Baron  speaks  as  well  and  true  as  you  fought. 
Colonel." 

She  looked  hastily  around.  Seeing  many  friendly  smiles 
and  looks  of  honest  goodwill  and  admiration  she  rose  con- 
fusedly, saying,  "I  must  go  to  work  at  once." 

"1  think,  Louise,"  said  Mrs.  Whately,  joining  her  in  the 
hall,  we  can  accomplish  most  if  we  work  much  together 
and  under  the  directions  of  the  surgeons.  It  is  evident 
from  the  numbers  of  the  wounded  that  time,  strength, 
food — everything  will  have  to  be  used  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. I'm  glad  that  we  both  got  some  sleep  last  night. 
Now,  I  insist.  Before  you  do  a  thing  you  must  have  a  cup 
of  hot  coffee  and  some  nourishing  food  yourself.  The  best 
impulses  in  the  world  are  not  equal  to  the  tasks  before  us. 
Indeed,  we  shall  fail  these  poor  men  in  their  sore  need  if 
we  do  not  keep  our  strength.  The  worst  is  yet  to  come. 
As  far  as  you  can,  control  your  feelings,  for  emotion  wears 
faster  than  work.     Let's  first  go  to  the  kitchen." 

Zany  followed  from  the  dining-room  with  her  hands  full 
of  dishes.  She  gave  Miss  Lou  a  swift,  significant  glance, 
and  that  was  all.     Even  she  was  sobered  by  the  scenes  wit- 


224  **MIS8   LOW 

nessed  that  morning  and  the  thought  of  Chunk's  indefinite 
absence.  Aun'  Suke  sat  dozing  in  a  corner,  absolutely  worn 
out,  and  other  negroes  from  the  quarters  had  been  pressed 
into  the  service.  Mrs.  Baron  was  superintending  their 
efforts  to  supply  soup  and  such  articles  of  diet  as  the  sur- 
geons had  ordered.  *'01e  miss'*  now  shone  to  advantage 
and  had  the  executive  ability  of  a  general.  In  cool,  sharp, 
decisive  tones  she  gave  her  orders,  which  were  obeyed 
promptly  by  assistants  awed  into  forgetfulness  of  every- 
thing else  except  the  great,  solemn  emergency.  All  differ- 
ences had  disappeared  between  the  two  ladies,  and  they 
began  consulting  at  once  how  best  to  meet  the  prolonged 
demands  now  clearly  foreseen.  ' 

*'The  confusion  and  conflicting  requirements  are  just 
awful,"  said  Mrs.  Baron.  "As  soon  as  possible,  we  must 
bring  about  some  system  and  order.  One  of  the  first  things 
to  do  is  to  get  as  many  provisions  and  delicacies  as  possible 
under  lock  and  key,  especially  the  coffee  and  sugar.  They 
are  going  to  give  out  anyway,  before  long." 

Miss  Lou  stole  away  and  ran  to  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin. 
Soldiers  had  taken  possession  of  it  and  were  cooking  and 
eating  their  breakfasts.  Some  recognized  the  girl  politely 
as.  she  stood  at  the  door,  while  others  continued  their  occu- 
pation in  stolid  indifference.  Aun'  Jin  key  rose  tottering 
from  a  corner  and  came  to  the  doorstep.  "You  see  how  'tis, 
honey,"  she  said.  "Dey  des  gwine  on  ez  ef  I  ain'  yere. 
I  a  hun'erd  yeahs  ol'er  dan  I  wuz  w'en  you  want  sump'n 
ter  hap'n." 

"Take  courage,  mammy,"  Miss  Lou  whispered.  "Chunk's 
safe.    Have  you  had  any  breakfast?" 

"I  can't  eat,  honey,  w'en  ev'yting  des  a  whirlin'." 

The  girl  darted  away  and  in  a  few  moments  returned 
with  a  cup  of  coffee.  Entering  the  cabin,  she  said,  "Fair 
play,  gentlemen.  This  is  my  old  mammy's  cabin  and  this 
her  place  here  in  the  corner  by  the  hearth.  Will  you  do 
me  the  favor  of  being  kind  to  her  and  letting  her  remain  un- 
disturbed ?    Then  you  can  use  her  fireplace  all  you  please." 


A    HOME   A    HOSPITAL  226 

The  Southern  soldiers,  understanding  so  well  the  rela- 
tion between  the  girl  and  the  old  woman,  agreed  with 
many  good-natured  protestations,  offering  to  share  with 
Aun'  Jin  key  their  rude  breakfast. 

By  the  time  the  girl  had  returned  to  the  house,  she 
found  that  Zany  and  others  had  prepared  a  second  break- 
fast in  the  dining-room  for  the  family  and  such  of  the  offi- 
cers whose  wounds  were  so  slight  as  to  permit  their  pres- 
ence at  the  table.  Miss  Lou  was  placed  between  her  cousin 
and  a  young,  dark-eyed  officer  who  was  introduced  as  Cap- 
tain Maynard.     He  also  carried  his  left  arm  in  a  sling. 

Mrs.  Whately  sat  in  Mr.  Baron's  place,  since  he,  after  a 
night's  vigils,  had  retired  to  obtain  a  little  sleep.  "Lou- 
ise," said  the  lady,  "you  will  have  to  begin  being  useful  at 
once.  You  have  a  disabled  man  on  either  side  of  you  for 
whom  you  must  prepare  food." 

"Miss  Baron,"  said  Captain  Maynard  gallantly,  "I  am 
already  more  than  reconciled  to  my  wound.  Anything  that 
you  prepare  for  me  will  be  ambrosia." 

Whately  frowned  as  he  heard  these  words  and  saw  the 
immediate  impression  made  by  his  cousin  upon  his  brother 
officer;  but  a  warning  glance  from  his  mother  led  him  to 
vie  in  compliments.  Before  very  long  Maynard  remarked 
sotto  voce^  "If  you  aid  in  healing  the  wounds  made  by  the 
Yanks,  Miss  Baron,  who  will  heal  the  wounds  you  make?" 

"I  shall  not  make  any,  sir.  Such  thoughts,  even  in  jest, 
wound  me  at  this  time.  Please  excuse  me,  I've  had  all  the 
breakfast  I  wish,  and  I  cannot  rest  till  I  am  doing  some- 
thing for  those  who  are  suffering  so  much." 

He  rose  instantly  and  drew  back  her  chair.  In  sitting 
down  again,  he  encountered  Whately's  eyes,  and  recog- 
nized the  jealousy  and  anger  already  excited. 


226  *'MISS  LOV 


m 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  TRIBUTE  TO  A  SOUTHERN  GIRL 

ISS  LOU  entered  upon  her  duties  as  hospital  nurse 
at  once.  Untrammelled  even  by  the  knowledge  of 
conventionalities,  and  with  the  directness  and  fear- 
lessness of  a  brave  child,  she  went  from  one  to  another,  her 
diffidence  quickly  banished  by  her  profound  sympathy.  The 
enlisted  men  on  the  piazzas  received  her  chief  attentions,  nor 
was  she  long  in  discovering  the  Federal  wounded,  crowding 
the  outbuildings  and  offices. 

With  the  exception  of  a  rearguard  and  hospital  attend- 
ants, the  Confederate  forces  had  marched  in  pursuit  of  the 
Union  column.  The  dead  were  buried  during  the  morning 
and  the  ghastlier  evidences  of  strife  removed.  Along  the 
edge  of  the  grove  tents  were  pitched,  some  designed  for  the 
soldiers,  others  for  the  better  accommodation  and  isolation 
of  certain  critical  cases.  The  negroes  performed  most  of 
the  labor.  Uncle  Lnsthah  counselling  patience  and  quiet 
acceptance  of  their  lot  for  the  present.  The  prisoners  were 
sent  South.  Confederate  surgeon  Ackley  was  in  charge  of 
the  hospital,  while  upon  Whately  was  conferred  the  mili- 
tary command.  His  partial  disablement  would  not  prevent 
him  from  attending  to  the  light  duties  of  the  position,  the 
surgeon  being  practically  the  superior  officer.  Order  was 
quickly  restored,  guards  set  at  important  points,  and  the 
strangely  assorted  little  community  passed  speedily  under 
a  simple  yet  rigorous  military  government.  Curiosity,  de- 
sire of  gain,  as  well  as  sympathy,  led  people  to  flock  to  the 
plantation  from  far  and  near.     One  of  Surgeon  Ackley 's 


A    TRIBUTE    TO    A    SOUTHERN    GIRL  227 

first  steps  was  to  impress  upon  all  the  need  of  provisions, 
for  Mr.  Baron's  larder,  ample  as  it  had  been,  was  speedily 
exhausted.  During  the  day  began  the  transfer  of  the 
slightly  wounded  to  the  nearest  railroad  town,  where  sup- 
plies could  be  obtained  with  more  certainty,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  the  policy  of  abandoning  the  remote  plantation  as 
soon  as  possible  had  been  adopted. 

Miss  Lou  knew  nothing  of  this,  and  simply  became  ab- 
sorbed in  successive  tasks  for  the  time  being. 

"Miss  Baron,"  said  Surgeon  Ackley,  "a  number  of  the 
men  are  so  disabled  that  they  cannot  feed  themselves. 
Proper  food  at  the  right  time  usually  means  life." 

These  words  suggested  what  became  one  of  her  principal 
daties.  At  first,  rough  men  were  surprised  and  grateful  in- 
deed to  find  fair  young  girl  kneeling  beside  them  with  a 
bowl  of  hot  soup;  then  they  began  to  look  for  her  and  wel- 
come her  as  one  who  evoked  their  best  and  most  chivalrous 
feelings.  It  had  soon  been  evident  to  her  that  the  wounded 
officers  in  the  house  would  receive  the  most  careful  atten- 
tion from  the  regularly  appointed  attendants  and  also  from 
Mrs.  Whately.  With  the  exception  of  the  old  colonel,  she 
gradually  began  to  devote  the  most  of  her  time  to  the  en- 
listed men,  finding  among  them  much  less  embarrassment 
in  her  labors.  W  ith  the  latter  class  among  the  Confeder- 
ates, there  was  not  on  either  side  a  consciousness  of  social 
equality  or  an  effort  to  maintain  its  amenities.  The  relation 
was  the  simple  one  of  kindness  bestowed  and  received. 

The  girl  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Union  wounded 
with  feelings  in  which  doubt,  curiosity  and  sympathy  were 
strangely  blended.  Her  regard  for  Scoville  added  to  her 
peculiar  interest  in  his  compatriots.  They  were  the  ene- 
mies of  whom  she  had  heard  so  much,  having  been  repre- 
sented as  more  alien  and  foreign  than  if  they  had  come 
across  the  seas  and  spoke  a  different  tongue.  How  they 
would  receive  her  had  been  an  anxious  query  from  the  first, 
but  she  quickly  learned  that  her  touch  of  kindness  made 
them  kin — that  they  welcomed  her  in  the  same  spirit  as  did 


228  ''MISS    LOW 

her  own  people,  while  they  also  were  animated  by  like  curi- 
osity and  wondering  interest  in  regard  to  herself.  A  wo- 
man's presence  in  a  field  hospital  was  in  itself  strange  and 
unexpected.  That  this  woman  should  be  a  Southern  girl, 
whose  lovely  features  were  gentle  in  commiseration,  instead 
of  rigid  from  an  imperious  sense  of  duty  to  foes,  was  a  truth 
scarcely  accepted  at  first.  Its  fuller  comprehension  began 
to  evoke  a  homage  which  troubled  the  girl.  She  was  too 
simple  and  honest  to  accept  such  return  for  what  seemed 
the  natural  offices  of  humanity;  yet,  while  her  manner  and 
words  checked  its  expression,  they  only  deepened  the  feeling. 

At  first  she  could  scarcely  distinguish  among  the  bronzed, 
begrimed  faces,  but  before  the  day  passed  there  were  those 
whose  needs  and  personal  traits  enlisted  her  special  regard. 
This  was  true  of  one  middle-aged  Union  captain,  to  whom 
at  first  she  had  no  call  to  speak,  for  apparently  he  was  not 
very  seriously  wounded.  Even  before  his  face  was  cleansed 
from  the  smoke  and  dust  of  battle  his  large,  dark  eyes  and 
magnificent  black  beard  caught  her  attention.  Later  on, 
when  feeding  a  helpless  man  near  him,  he  spoke  to  her  and 
held  out  a  photograph.  She  took  it  and  saw  the  features  of 
a  blond  young  girl  scarcely  as  old  as  herself. 

"My  little  girl,"  said  the  officer  simply.  "See  how  she 
resembles  her  mother.  That's  one  reason  why  I  so  idolize 
her,"  and  he  handed  Miss  Lou  another  picture,  that  of  a 
sweet,  motherly  face,  to  which  the  former  likeness  bore  the 
resemblance  of  bud  to  blossom. 

"We  must  try  to  get  you  well  soon,  so  that  you  may  go 
back  to  them,"  said  Miss  Lou  cordially.  "You  are  not  seri- 
ously hurt,  I  hope?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  I  wanted  you  to  see  them  so  you  can 
imagine  how  they  will  look  when  I  tell  them  about  you.  I 
don't  need  to  be  reminded  of  my  little  Sadie,  but  I  almost 
see  her  when  you  come  among  us,  and  I  think  her  blue  eyes 
would  have  much  the  same  expression  as  yours.  God  bless 
you,  for  you  are  blessing  those  whom  you  regard  as  your 
enemies.     We  don't  look  very  hostile  though,  do  we?" 


A    TRIBUTE    TO    A    SOUTHERN   GIRL  229 

*'It  seems  a  terrible  mistake  that  you  should  be  here  at 
all  as  enemies,"  she  replied.  "I  have  been  taught  to  dread 
your  coming  more  than  if  you  were  Indians.  I  never  can 
understand  why  men  who  carry  such  pictures  as  these  next 
their  heart  can  fight  against  us." 

"Well,  Miss  Baron,  you  must  try  to  believe  that  we 
would  not  have  left  the  dear  originals  of  such  pictures  un- 
less we  had  felt  we  must,  and  there  let  the  question  rest. 
Our  lives  are  sweet  to  us,  although  we  risk  them,  chiefly 
because  so  dear  to  those  at  home.  Let  the  thought  cheer 
you  in  your  work  that  you  are  keeping  tears  from  eyes  as 
good  and  kind  as  your  own.  That's  another  reason  why  I 
showed  you  the  likenesses." 

"It  will  be  but  another  motive,"  she  said.  "A  suffer- 
ing man,  whether  friend  or  enemy,  is  enough." 

She  smiled  as  she  spoke,  then  picked  her  way  across  the 
wide  barn  floor  and  disappeared.  Every  eye  followed  her, 
pain  all  forgotten  for  the  moment. 

"By  G — d!"  exclaimed  a  rough  fellow,  drawing  his 
sleeve  across  his  eyes,  "I'm  hard  hit,  but  I'll  crawl  to  and 
choke  the  first  man  who  says  a  word  she  oughtn't  to  hear 
when  she's  around." 

"If  you  can  keep  your  own  tongue  civil,  Yarry,  you'll 
have  your  hands  full,"  said  a  comrade. 

"Well,  I  be  blankety  blank-blanked  if  that  girl  doesn't 
rout  the  devil  out  of  a  fellow,  hoof  and  horns." 

"You're  right,  my  man,"  said  the  Union  captain,  "and 
your  feelings  do  you  credit.  Now  I  have  a  suggestion  to 
make.  Not  one  of  us  is  capable  of  using  a  word  before  her 
that  she  shouldn't  hear,  if  not  out  of  our  heads.  We  can 
pay  her  a  better  tribute  than  that.  Let  us  decide  to  speak 
in  her  absence  as  if  she  were  present.  That's  about  all  we 
can  do  in  return  for  her  kindness.  She  won't  know  the 
cost  to  us  in  breaking  habits,  but  we  will,  and  that's  better. 
We  all  feel  that  we'd  like  to  spill  some  more  of  our 
blood  for  the  girl  who  fed  Phillips  yonder  as  if  he  were 
a  baby.      Well,   let  us  do  the  only  thing  we  can — speak 


280  ''MISS   LOU" 

as  if  our  mothers  heard  us  all  the  time,  for  this  girl's 
sake." 

"I  be  blanked  if  I  don't  agree,  and  may  the  devil  flj 
away  with  the  man  who  doesn't,"  cried  Yarry. 

"Ah,  Yarry,"  said  the  captain,  laughing,  "you'll  have 
the  hardest  row  of  any  of  us  to  hoe.  We'll  have  to  let  you 
off  for  some  slips. ' ' 

Then  began  among  the  majority  a  harder  fight  than  that 
for  life — a  fight  with  inveterate  habit,  an  effort  to  change 
vernacular,  almost  as  difficult  as  the  learning  of  a  new  lan- 
guage. For  some  time  Miss  Lou  did  not  know  nor  under- 
stand. Word  had  been  passed  to  other  and  smaller  groups 
of  the  Union  wounded  in  other  buildings.  The  pledge  was 
soon  known  as  "A  Northern  Tribute  to  a  Southern  Girl." 
It  was  entered  into  with  enthusiasm  and  kept  with  a  pathetic 
effort  which  many  will  not  understand.  Yarry  positively 
began  to  fail  under  the  restraint  he  imposed  upon  himself. 
His  wound  caused  him  agony,  and  profanity  would  have 
been  his  natural  expression  of  even  slight  annoyance.  All 
day  long  grisly  oaths  rose  to  his  lips.  Now  and  then  an  ex- 
cruciating twinge  would  cause  a  half-uttered  expletive  to 
burst  forth  like  a  projectile.  A  deep  groan  would  fol- 
low, as  the  man  became  rigid  in  his  struggle  for  self- 
control. 

"Yarry,"  cried  Captain  Hanfield,  who  had  suggested  the 
pledge,  "let  yourself  go,  for  God's  sake.  You  have  shown 
more  heroism  to-day  than  1  in  all  my  life.  We  will  make 
you  an  exception  and  put  you  on  parole  to  hold  in  only  while 
Miss  Baron  is  here." 

"I  be — oh,  blank  it!  This  is  going  to  be  the  death  of 
me,  boys.  The  Kebs  gave  me  hell  with  this  wound.  But 
for  God's  sake  don't  let  her  know.  Just  let  her  think  I'm 
civil  like  the  rest  of  you.  Wouldn't  she  open  them  blue 
eyes  if  she  knew  a  man  was  dyin',  just  holdin'  in  cussin'  on 
her  account.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  She'd  think  I  was  a  sort  of  a 
Yankee  devil,  worse  than  the  Injins  she  expected.  Don't 
let  her  know.     I'll  be  quiet  enough  before  long.     Then  like 


A    TRIBUTE    TO    A    SOUTHERN    GIRL  231 

enough  she'd  look  at  me  and  say,  'Poor  fellow!  he  won't 
make  any  more  trouble.'  " 

Whately  had  a  busy  day  and  felt  that  he  had  a  reputa- 
tion to  regain.  He  therefore  bravely  endured  much  physi- 
cal pain  in  his  arm  and  gave  very  close  attention  to  duty. 
Captain  Maynard,  on  the  contrary,  had  nothing  to  do,  and 
his  wound  was  only  severe  enough  to  make  him  restless. 
The  young  girl  whom  he  had  met  at  breakfast  at  once  be- 
came by  far  the  most  interesting  subject  for  thought  and 
object  of  observation.  He  was  a  young  fellow  of  the  ordi- 
nary romantic  type,  hasty,  susceptible,  as  ready  to  fight  as 
to  eat,  and  possessed  of  the  idea  that  the  way  to  win  a  girl 
wa^  to  appear  her  smitten,  abject  slave.  The  passing  hours 
were  ages  to  him  in  contrast  to  his  previous  activity,  and  as 
he  watched  Miss  Lou  going  about  on  her  errands  of  mercy 
he  quickly  passed  from  one  stage  to  another  of  admiration 
and  idealization.  Eemembering  the  look  that  Whately  had 
given  him  in  the  morning,  he  maintained  a  distant  attitude 
at  first,  thinking  his  brother  officer  had  claims  which  he 
must  respect.  As  he  wandered  uneasily  around,  however, 
he  discovered  virtually  how  matters  stood,  and  learned  of 
the  attempt  which  Whately  had  made  to  marry  his  cousin, 
nolens  volens.  This  fact  piqued  his  interest  deeply  and  sat- 
isfied him  that  the  way  was  clear  for  a  suit  on  his  part  were 
he  so  inclined.  Fair  rivalry  would  give  only  additional  zest, 
and  he  promptly  yielded  to  his  inclination  to  become  at  least 
much  better  acquainted  with  the  girl.  At  dinner  he  and 
Whately  vied  in  their  gallantries,  but  she  was  too  sad  and 
weary  to  pay  much  attention  to  either  of  them. 

Mrs.  Whately  compelled  her  to  lie  down  for  a  time  dur- 
ing the  heat  of  the  afternoon,  but  thoughts  of  the  suffering 
all  about  her  banished  power  to  rest.  She  went  down  and 
found  the  old  colonel  lying  with  closed  eyes,  feebly  trying 
to  keep  away  the  pestering  flies.  Eemembering  the  bunch 
of  peacock  feathers  with  which  Zany,  in  old  monotonous 
days,  had  waved  when  waiting  on  the  table,  she  obtained 
it  from  the  dining-room,  and  sitting  down  noiselessly  by 


232  ''Miss  LOW 

the  officer,  gave  him  a  respite  from  his  tormentors.  In  his 
drowsiness  he  did  not  open  his  eyes,  but  passed  into  quiet 
sleep.  The  girl  maintained  her  watch,  putting  her  finger 
to  her  lips  and  making  signals  for  silence  to  all  who  came 
near.  Other  Confederate  officers  observed  her  wistfully; 
Mad  Whately,  coming  in,  looked  at  her  frowningly.  His 
desire  and  purpose  toward  his  cousin  had  been  that  of  entire 
self-appropriation  and  now  she  was  becoming  the  cynosure 
of  many  eyes.  Among  them  he  saw  those  of  Captain  May- 
nard,  who  was  already  an  object  of  hate.  Little  recked  the 
enamored  captain  of  this  fact.  To  his  ardent  fancy  the  girl 
was  rapidly  becoming  ideal  in  goodness  and  beauty.  With 
the  ready  egotism  of  the  young  he  was  inclined  to  believe 
that  fate  had  brought  about  the  events  which  had  revealed 
to  him  the  woman  he  should  marry.  A  bombshell  bursting 
among  them  all  would  not  have  created  a  greater  sensation 
than  the  knowledge  that  the  girl's  thoughts  were  following 
a  Yankee,  one  whom  she  herself,  by  daring  stratagem,  had 
released  from  captivity. 

A  twinge  of  pain  awakened  the  colonel  and  he  looked 
up,  dazed  and  uncomprehending.  Miss  Lou  bent  over  him 
and  said  gently,  "Go  to  sleep  again.     It's  all  right." 

"Oh,  I  remember  now.     You  are  Miss  Baron." 

' '  Yes,  but  don' t  try  to  talk ;  just  sleep  now  that  you  can. ' ' 

He  smiled  and  yielded. 

A  few  moments  later  Maynard  came  forward  and  said, 
•'Miss  Baron,  your  arm  must  be  tired.  Let  me  take  your 
place." 

Now  she  rewarded  him  by  a  smile.  "I  will  be  glad  if 
you  can,"  she  replied  softly,  "not  that  I  am  very  tired,  but 
there  are  so  many  others." 

As  she  moved  away,  she  saw  Surgeon  Ackley  beckoning 
to  her.  "Miss  Baron,"  he  said,  "1  am  going  to  put  one 
of  my  patients  especially  in  your  and  your  aunt's  charge. 
Young  as  he  is,  he  is  a  hero  and  an  unusual  character.  I 
have  had  him  moved  to  a  tent,  for  he  is  in  a  very  criticaJ 
condition.      Indeed,   his  chances   for   life  are  few  and  he 


A    TRIBUTE    TO    A    SOUTHERN    GIRL  233 

knows  it.     I  am  acquainted  with  his  family — one  of  the 
best  in  the  South." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  small  tent  beneath  the  shade  of  a 
wide-branched  oak.  A  stretcher  had  been  extemporized 
into  a  camp  bed  and  on  it  lay  a  youth  not  older  apparently 
than  the  girl  herself.  His  face  had  the  blood-drained  look 
which  many  will  remember,  yet  was  still  fine  in  its  strong, 
boyish  lines.  The  down  on  his  upper  lip  was  scarcely  more 
deeply  defined  than  his  straight  eyebrows.  A  negro  attend-  | 
ant  sat  near  fanning  him,  and  Miss  Lou  first  thought  that  he 
was  asleep.  As  she  approached  with  the  surgeon  he  opened 
his  eyes  with  the  dazed  expression  so  common  when  the 
brain  is  enfeebled  from  loss  of  blood.  At  first  they  seemed 
almost  opaque  and  dead  in  their  blackness,  but,  as  if  a  light 
were  approaching  from  within,  they  grew  bright  and  laugh- 
ing. His  smile  showed  his  white,  even  teeth  slightly,  and 
her  look  of  deep  commiseration  passed  into  one  of  wonder 
as  she  saw  his  face  growing  positively  radiant  with  what 
seemed  to  her  a  strange  kind  of  happiness,  as  he  glanced 
back  and  forth  from  her  to  the  surgeon.  Feebly  he  raised 
his  finger  to  his  lips  as  if  to  say,  "I  can't  speak.*' 

^'That's  right,  Waldo;  don't  try  to  talk  yet.  This  is 
Miss  Baron.  She  will  be  one  of  your  nurses  and  will  feed 
you  with  the  best  of  soup.     We'll  bring  you  round  yet." 

He  shook  his  head  and  smiled  more  genially,  then  tried 
to  extend  his  hand  to  the  girl,  looking  his  welcome  and  ac- 
ceptance of  her  ministry.  So  joyous  was  his  expression 
that  she  could  not  help  smiling  in  return,  but  it  was'the  ques- 
tioning, doubtful  smile  of  one  who  did  not  understand. 

''When  she  comes,"  resumed  Ackley,  *'take  what  she 
gives  you,  but  don't  talk  until  I  give  permission.  That 
will  do  now.  You  must  take  everything  except  quiet  in 
small  quantities  at  first." 

His  lips  formed  tbe  words  *'A1I  right,"  and  smilingly 
he  watched  them  depart. 

'*I  suppose  he  is  not  exactly  in  his  right  mind,"  said 
Miss  Lou  as  she  and  the  surgeon  returned  to  the  house.  j 


234  ''MISS   LOU'- 

"Many  would  think  so,  I  reckon,"  replied  Acklej  la- 
conically. "He  believes  in  a  heaven  and  that  he's  going 
there.  That's  the  only  queer  thing  I  ever  discovered  in 
Waldo.     He's  worth  a  lot  of  trouble,  Miss  Baron." 

"It  would  be  right  strange  if  I  did  not  do  my  best  for 
him,  sir." 

"I  thought  you'd  feel  so.  I  want  very  strong  beef  soup 
made  for  a  few  such  special  cases,  who  can  take  but  little  at 
a  time.  I  would  like  him  to  have  a  few  teaspoonfuls  every 
two  hours.  I  am  going  to  trust  to  you  and  Mrs.  Whately 
chiefly  to  look  after  him  in  this  respect.  We  can  do  little 
more  than  help  nature  in  his  case." 

Poor  Ann'  Suke  was  getting  weary  again,  but  she  had 
a  heart  which  Miss  Lou  speedily  touched  in  behalf  of  her 
patient,  and  a  special  saucepan  was  soon  bubbling  over 
the  fire. 

The  soup  for  the  evening  meal  being  ready,  she  began 
again  her  task  of  feeding  the  helpless  soldiers,  visiting, 
among  others,  Phillips,  who  lay  in  a  half-stupor  on  the 
great  barn-floor.  As  she  stepped  in  among  the  Federal 
wounded,  she  was  again  impressed  by  the  prevailing  quiet 
and  by  the  friendly  glances  turned  toward  her  on  every 
side.  The  Union  surgeon  in  charge  lifted  his  hat  politely, 
while  such  of  the  men  as  were  able  took  off  theirs  and  re- 
mained uncovered.  The  homage,  although  quiet,  was  so 
marked  that  she  was  again  embarrassed,  and  with  downcast 
eyes  went  direct  to  Phillips,  gently  roused  him  and  gave 
him  his  supper.  While  she  was  doing  this  the  men  around 
her  were  either  silent  or  spoke  in  low  tones.  The  thought 
grew  in  her  mind,  "How  these  Northern  soldiers  have  been 
misrepresented  to  me !  Even  when  I  am  approaching  and 
before  they  are  aware  I  am  near,  I  hear  no  rough  talk  as  I 
do  among  our  men.  ^  The  world  is  so  different  from  uncle's 
idea  of  it!  Whether  these  men  are  right  or  wrong,  1  will 
never  listen  patiently  again  when  they  are  spoken  of  as  the 
scum  of  the  earth. " 

As  she  rose  and  saw  the  respectful  attitude  toward  her, 


A    TRIBUTE    TO    A    SOUTHERN   OIRL  235 

she   faltered,    "I— I — wish  to   thank   you   for   your — your 
kindness  to  me." 

At  these  words  there  was  a  general  smile  even  on  the 
wannest  and  most  pain-pinched  face,  for  they  struck  the  men 
as  very  droll. 

"We  were  under  the  impression  that  the  kindness  was 
chiefly  on  your  side,"  said  Captain  Hanfield.  "Still  we  are 
glad  you  find  us  a  civil  lot  of  Indians." 

"Please  remember,"  she  answered  earnestly,  "that  was 
not  my  thought,  but  one  impressed  upon  me  by  those  who 
did  not  know.  Only  within  a  very  short  time  have  I  ever 
seen  Northern  people  or  soldiers,  and  they  treat  me  with 
nothing  but  courtesy." 

"Perhaps  you  are  to  blame  for  that,"  said  the  captain 
pleasantly. 

"I  can't  help  feeling  glad  that  our  good  opinion  is  be- 
coming mutual,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "Won't  you  please 
put  on  your  hats  and  let  me  come  and  go  as  a  matter  of 
course?  I  don't  like  to  be  sort  of  received  every  time  I 
come.     I  just  want  to  help  those  I  can  help,  to  get  well." 

"You  have  only  to  express  your  wishes,  Miss  Baron," 
was  the  hearty  reply. 

"Thank  you.  Is  there  anything  more  that  I  can  do  for 
you  ?     Is  there  any  one  who  specially  needs — ' ' 

As  she  was  glancing  round  her  eyes  fell  upon  Yarry. 
His  face  was  so  drawn  and  haggard  with  pain  that,  from  an 
impulse  of  pity,  she  went  directly  to  him  and  said  gently, 
"I  fear,  sir,  you  are  suffering  very  much." 

"I  be — oh,  hang — there,  there,  miss,  I'll  stand  it  a  little 
longer.  I  could  stand  hell-fire  for  your  sake.  I  didn't 
mean  to  say  that.     Guess  I  better  keep  still." 

His  face,  now  seen  attentively,  revealed  more  to  her  in 
tuition  than  his  words.     She  stooped  by  his  side  and  said 
piteously,  "Oh,  you  are  suffering— I /ee?  that  you  are  suffer- 
ing terribly.     I  must  do  something  to  relieve  you." 

"Oh,  now,  miss,"  he  replied,  forcing  a  ghastly  sort  of 
smile,  "I'm  all  right,  I  be well,  I  am.    Bless  your  kind 


236  *'MISS   LOU" 

heart!  Don't  worry  about  me.  I'll  smoke  my  pipe  and  go 
to  sleep  pretty  soon.     You  look  tired  yourself,  little  one. 

I  will  feel  better  if  you  won't  worry  about  me,  I  be 

well,  I  will.     I'm  just  like  the  other  fellows,  you  know." 

"I  reckon  you  are  a  brave,  good- hearted  man,  to  think 
of  others  when  I  know  you  are  suffering  so  much.  I  am 
having  very  strong  soup  made  for  one  of  our  men,  and  I'll 
bring  you  some  by  and  by,"  and  with  a  lingering,  troubled 
look  into  his  rugged  face,  she  departed. 

His  eyes  followed  her  until  she  disappeared. 

* '  Yarry,  you  are  rewarded, ' '  Captain  Hanfield  remarked. 

*' my  reward.     Fellers,  she's   just  wearin'  herself 

out  for  us.  I  don't  want  no  reward  for  anything  I  can 
do  for  her.  Well,  I'm  goin'  to  shut  up  now.  The  only 
thing  I  can  do  for  her  is  to  hold  my  tongue  till  it  can't 
wag.     I  told  her  I'd  smoke  my  pipe  and  go  to  sleep.     I 

be well,  I  will.     Light  it  for  me,  Tom.     When  she 

comes,  like  enough  I'll  be  asleep,  a  sort  of  dead  sleep,  yer 
know.  Just  let  her  think  I'm  dozin'  after  my  pipe.  Don't 
let  her  try  to  wake  me  and  worry  about  me." 

"All  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Yarry,"  said  Captain  Han- 
field. "I  tell  you,  men,  few  women  ever  received  such  a 
tribute  as  Yarry  is  paying  this  Southern  girl.  For  one, 
I'm  proud  of  him." 


A   BACKGROUND    OF  EGOTISM  287 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A   BACKGROUND   OF   EGOTISM 

WHEN  Miss  Lou  returned  to  the  house  supper  was 
ready  and  she  sat  down  weary,  saddened  and  pre- 
occupied by  the  scenes  she  had  witnessed. 

"You  are  going  beyond  your  strength,"  said  Captain 
Maynard,  who  had  watched  her  coming  back  from  the  Fed- 
eral wounded.  "Cannot  you  be  content  to  confine  your 
ministrations  to  your  friends  only?" 

"For  once  I  can  agree  with  Captain  Maynard,"  Whately 
added  stiffly.  "I  don't  think  it's  right  for  you,  cousin,  to 
be  going  among  those  rough,  brutal  fellows. ' ' 

Instantly  her  anger  flamed  at  the  injustice  of  the  remark 
and  she  answered  hotly,  "I've  found  no  rough,  brutal  fel- 
lows among  the  Yankees. ' ' 

All  smiled  at  her  words,  and  Ackley  remarked  to  one  of 
the  Union  surgeons,  "Dr.  Borden,  I  thought  our  men  could 
hold  their  own  pretty  well  with  the  Army  in  Flanders,  but 
you  Yanks,  I  reckon,  surpass  all  military  organizations,  past 
or  present.  There  was  one  man  especially  who  fairly  made 
the  night  lurid  and  left  a  sulphurous  odor  after  him  when 
he  was  brought  in.  It  would  be  rather  rough  on  us  all  if 
we  were  where  he  consigned  us  with  a  vim  that  was  start- 
ling. I  certainly  hope  that  Miss  Baron  is  not  compelled  to 
hear  any  such  language." 

"I  appeal  to  Miss  Baron  herself,"  said  Dr.  Borden, 
"if  she  has  been  offended  in  this  respect  to-day?" 

"No,  indeed j  I  have  not,"  replied  the  girl  indignantly. 
"I  never  was  treated  with  more  courtesy.     I  have  not  heard 


238  **MISS   LOW* 

a  rough  word  from  tlie  Yankees  even  when  they  did  not 
know  1  was  near,  and  that  is  more  than  I  can  say  of  our 
own  men.  Fight  the  Yankees  all  you  please,  but  don't  do 
them  injustice." 

In  spite  of  the  girl's  flushed,  incensed  face,  there  was  an 
explosion  of  laughter.  "Pardon  me.  Miss  Baron,"  said 
Ackley,  "but  you  can't  know  how  droll  your  idea  of  injus- 
tice to  the  Yankees  seems  to  us.  That  you  have  such  an 
idea,  however,  is  a  credit  to  you  and  to  them  also,  for  they 
must  have  been  behaving  themselves  prodigiously." 

"Yes,  Dr.  Ackley,"  replied  Borden  emphatically,  *'Miss 
Baron's  impressions  are  a  credit  to  her  and  to  my  patients. 
They  promptly  recognized  her  motives  and  character,  and 
for  her  sake  they  pledged  themselves  that  while  here,  where 
she  is  one  of  the  nurses,  they  would  not  use  language  at 
any  time  which  they  would  not  have  their  mothers  hear. 
That  very  man  you  speak  of,  who  swore  so  last  night,  be- 
lieves himself  dying  from  his  effort  at  self-restraint.  This 
is  not  true,  for  he  would  have  died  anyhow,  but  his  death 
is  hastened  by  his  effort.  He  has  been  in  agony  all  day. 
Opiates  make  him  worse,  so  there  is  no  use  of  giving  them. 
But  I  can  tell  you,  no  man  in  your  Confederacy  ever  did  a 
braver  thing  than  he  is  doing  this  minute  to  show  his  re- 
spect for  this  young  lady  who  has  shown  kindness  to  his 
comrades.  I  can  assure  you,  Lieutenant  Whately,  that  you 
need  have  no  fears  about  your  cousin  when  visiting  my 
patients. ' ' 

"What's  the  name  of  the  soldier  of  whom  you  speak?" 
Miss  Lou  asked  eagerly. 

"He  is  called  Yarry.  I  don't  know  any  other  name  y^t 
— been  so  busy  dressing  wounds. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  faltered  the  girl,  rising,  her  face  showing 
signs  of  strong  emotion. 

"Oh,  Louise  1  finish  your  supper,''  expostulated  Mrs. 
Whately.  "You  must  not  let  these  scenes  take  so  strong 
a  hold"— but  she  was  out  of  hearing.  "I  fear  it's  all  going 
to  be  too  much  for  her, ' '  sighed  the  lady  in  conclusion. 


A    BACKGROUND   OF  EGOTISM  239 

Mr.  Baron  and  his  wife  exchanged  grim  glances  from 
the  head  and  foot  of  the  table,  as  much  as  to  say,  "She  has 
shaken  off  our  control  and  we  are  not  responsible,*'  but 
Ackl'ey  remarked,  "I  agree  with  you,  Dr.  Borden,  that  it's 
fine  to  see  a  girl  show  such  a  spirit,  and  I  congratulate  you 
that  your  men  are  capable  of  appreciating  it.  By  the  way, 
Mrs.  Whately,  I  have  put  her,  with  you,  in  charge  of  young 
Waldo  and  truly  hope  that  among  us  we  can  bring  him 
through." 

"Mrs.  Whately,"  said  Captain  Maynard,  *'I  reckon 
more  than  one  of  us  begin  to  regret  already  that  we  were 
not  so  desperately  wounded  as  to  need  your  attention  and 
that  of  Miss  Baron.  We  must  remember,  however,  that  she 
is  not  accustomed  to  these  scenes,  and  I  think  we  must  try 
to  make  her  forget  them  at  the  table.  I  suppose  in  the 
kindness  of  her  heart  she  is  now  crying  in  her  room  over 
that  Yankee." 

Whately  shot  a  savage  glance  at  the  speaker  which 
plainly  implied,  "It's  none  of  your  business  where  she  is." 
Suddenly  rising,  he  departed  also,  his  mother's  eyes  follow- 
ing him  anxiously. 

Miss  Lou  was  not  crying  in  her  room.  As  the  level  rays 
of  the  sun  shone  into  the  wide  old  barn,  making  the  straw 
in  a  mow  doubly  golden,  and  transforming  even  the  dusty 
cobwebs  into  fairy  lacework,  she  crossed  the  threshold  and 
paused  for  the  first  time  in  her  impulsive  haste  to  find 
and  thank  the  dying  man  of  whom  she  had  been  told.  All 
eyes  turned  wonderingly  toward  her  as  she  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  sunshine,  as  unconscious  of  herself,  of  the  mar- 
vellous touch  of  beauty  bestowed  by  the  light  and  her 
expression,  as  if  she  had  flown  from  the  skies. 

"Is  there  a  soldier  here  named  Yarry  ?"  she  began,  then 
uttered  a  little  inarticulate  cry  as  she  saw  Captain  Hanfield 
kneeling  beside  a  man  to  whom  all  eyes  directed  her.  "Oh, 
it's  he,"  she  sobbed,  kneeling  beside  him  also.  "As  soon 
as  I  heard  I  felt  it  was  he  who  told  me  not  to  worry  about 
him.     Is — is  he  really  dying?" 


240  **MIS8  LOW* 

"Yes,  I  hope  so,  Miss  Baron,'*  replied  the  captain 
gravely.    "He  couldn't  live  and  it's  time  he  had  rest." 

The  girl  bent  over  the  man,  her  hot  tears  falling  on  his 
face.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  vacantly  at  her  for 
a  moment  or  two,  then  smiled  in  recognition.  It  was  the 
most  pathetic  smile  she  had  ever  imagined.  "Don't  worry, " 
he  whispered,  "I'm  just  dozin'  ofi." 

"Oh,  my  poor,  brave  hero!"  she  said  brokenly,  **I  know, 
I  know  it  all.     God  reward  you,  I  can't." 

"Don't  want  no  reward.  I  be — say,  miss,  don't  wear — 
yourself — out  fer  us." 

She  took  his  cold  hand  and  bowed  her  forehead  upon  it, 
sobbing  aloud  in  the  overpowering  sense  of  his  self-forget- 
fulness.  "0  God!"  she  cried,  "do  for  this  brave,  un- 
selfish man  what  I  cannot.  When,  when  can  1  forget  such 
a  thing  as  this!  Oh,  live,  please  live;  we  will  take  such 
good  care  of  you." 

"There,  there,  little  one,  don't — take  on — so  about — 
me.  Ain't  wuth  it.  I  be —  Say,  I  feel  better — easier. 
Glad — you  spoke — good  word  to  God — for  me.  I  be— I 
mean,  I  think — He'll  hear — sech  as  you.  I'm — oS.  now. 
Don't — wear — yourself — ' ' 

Even  in  her  inexperience  she  saw  that  he  was  dying,  and 
when  his  gasping  utterance  ceased  she  had  so  supported  his 
head  that  it  fell  back  on  her  bosom.  For  a  few  moments 
she  just  cried  helplessly,  blinded  with  tears.  Then  she  felt 
the  burden  of  his  head  removed  and  hereelf  lifted  gently. 

"I  suspected  something  like  this  when  you  left  the  table, 
Miss  Baron,"  said  Dr.  Borden. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh,  I  feel  as  if  he  had  died  for  me,"  she  sobbed. 

"He  would  a  died  for  you,  miss,"  said  Tom,  drawing 
bis  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  "so  would  we  all." 

'"'Miss  Baron,"  resumed  the  doctor  gravely,  "remember 
poor  Yarry's  last  words,  *  Don't  wear  yourself — he  couldn't 
finish  the  sentence,  but  you  know  what  he  meant.  You 
must  grant  the  request  of  one  who  tried  to  do  what  he 
could  for  you.    As  a  physician  also  I  must  warn  you  to  rest 


A    BACKGROUND   OF  EGOTISM  241 

until  morning.     Y"ou  can  do  more  for  these  men  and  others 
by  first  doing  as  Yarry  wished,"  and  he  led  her  away. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  they  met  Uncle  Lusthah. 
The  girl  stopped  and  said,  *' Doctor,  won't  you  let  Uncle 
Lusthah  bury  him  to-morrow  down  by  the  run  ?  I'll  show 
bim  the  place." 

' '  Yes,  Miss  Baron,  we  all  will  do  anything  you  wish  if 
you  only  rest  to-night.  I  tell  you  frankly  you  endanger 
yourself  and  your  chance  to  do  anything  more  for  the 
wounded  by  continuing  the  strain  which  these  scenes  put 
upon  you.'* 

"I  reckon  you're  right,"  she  said,  *'I  feel  as  if  I  could 
hardly  stand. " 

"I  know.     Take  my  arm  and  go  at  once  to  your  room." 

On  the  way  they  encountered  Whately.  ** Cousin  I  where 
on  earth  have  you  been ?     Yoa  look  ready  to  faint." 

His  presence  and  all  that  he  implied  began  to  steady  her 
nerves  at  once,  but  she  made  no  reply. 

"She  has  witnessed  a  painful  scene,  Lieutenant,"  began 
the  surgeon. 

"You  have  no  business  to  permit  her  to  witness  such 
scenes,"  Whately  interrupted  sternly.  "You  should  see 
that  she's  little  more  than  an  inexperienced  child  and — " 

"Hush,  sir,"  said  Miss  Lou.  "Who  has  given  you  the 
right  to  dictate  to  me  or  to  this  gentleman?  I'm  in  no 
mood  for  any  more  such  words,  cousin.  To-day,  at  least, 
no  one  has  taken  advantage  of  my  inexperience.  Good- 
evening,"  and  she  passed  on,  leaving  him  chafing  in  im- 
patient anger  and  protest. 

At  the  house  Mrs.  Whately  began  expostulations  also, 
but  the  girl  said,  "Please  don't  talk  to  me  now.  By  and 
by  I  will  tell  you  what  will  touch  all  the  woman  in  your 
heart." 

"I  earnestly  suggest,"  added  Dr.  Borden,  "that  you  take 
Miss  Baron  to  her  room,  and  that  nothing  more  be  said  to 
disturb  her.  She  is  overwrought  and  has  reached  the  limit 
of  endurance. " 

Roe— IX— K 


242  ''MISS  LOU" 

The  lady  had  the  tact  to  acquiesce  at  once.  After  reach- 
ing her  room  Miss  Lou  exclaimed,  **But  I  have  not  been  to 
young  Waldo." 

*'I  have, "  replied  her  aunt,  **and  will  see  him  again  more 
than  once  before  I  retire.  Louise,  if  you  would  not  become  a 
burden  yourself  at  this  time  you  must  do  as  the  doctor  says. " 

Within  an  hour  the  girl  was  sleeping  and  her  nature 
regaining  the  strength  and  elasticity  of  youth. 

As  Whately  stood  fuming  where  his  cousin  had  left  him, 
Perkins  approached  for  the  first  time  since  they  had  parted 
in  anger  the  night  before. 

"I  reck'n  Miss  Baron's  gone  over  ter  the  inemy,"  re- 
marked the  overseer. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Look  yere,  Lef tenant,  what^s  the  use  o'  you  bein'  so 
gunpowdery  with  me  ?  What's  the  use,  I  say  ?  I  mout 
be  of  some  use  ter  you  ef  you  wuz  civil." 

"Of  what  use  were  you  last  night?  You  allowed  my 
prisoner  to  be  carried  off  right  under  your  nose." 

"Who  carried  'im  off?     Answer  that." 

"Why,  some  gawk  of  a  Yank  that  you  were  too  stupid 
to  tell  from  me. "  • 

"P'raps  hit  was,  p'raps  hit  wasn't." 

"Who  else  could  it  be?" 

"I  s'picion  who  it  was,  but  I'm  not  goin'  ter  talk  to  one 
who's  got  nothin'  better  to  give  me  'n  uggly  words." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say — " 

"I  don't  mean  to  say  nothin'  till  I  know  who  I'm  talkin' 
ter." 

'  Whately  gave  a  long,  low  whistle  and  then  mv.ttered 
"Impossible!" 

"Oh,  sut'ny,"  remarked  Perkins  ironically. 

The  two  men  gave  each  other  a  long  searching  look; 
then  Perkins  resumed,  "That's  right,  Lef  tenant,  take  yer 
Dearin's.  I  don't  see  ez  you  kin  do  me  any  special  good, 
ner  harm  nuther.  Ef  yer  want  no  news  or  help  from  me^ 
we  kin  sheer  off  right  yere  en  now." 


A    BACKGROUND   OF  EGOTISM  243 

*'I  say  your  suspicion  is  absurd,"  resumed  Whately,  as 
if  arguing  with  himself.  *'When  the  alarm,  caused  by 
firing,  came  last  night,  it  happened  she  was  in  her  room 
and  was  badly  frightened. ' ' 

"What  time  did  the  alarm  happen?" 

"About  two  o'clock." 

"Wal,  about  midnight  a  figger  that  favored  you  'maz- 
ingly,  yes,  ter  yer  very  walk,  came  up  boldly  en  sez  ter  me, 
nodding  at  the  Yank,  'Leave  'im  ter  me. '  The  figger  wasn't 
jes'  dressed  like  you  in  'Federate  uniform,  but  I  kin  a'most 
swear  the  figger  had  on  them  clo's  and  that  hat  you're  a 
wearin'  now;  arm  in  sling,  too.  What's  mo',  when  I  thought 
hit  over  I  was  cock  sure  the  figger  wuz  shorter'n  you  air. 
I  don't  believe  there's  a  Yank  livin'  that  could  a  fooled  me 
last  night,  'less  he  had  yer  clo's  on  en  yer  walk." 

"My  uniform  and  hat  hung  on  the  chairs  beside  me,  just 
where  they  had  been  put  when  I  went  to  sleep." 

"Jes'  tell  me  ef  the  do'  o'  yer  room  wuz  locked." 

"I  wasn't  in  a  room.     I  slept  at  the  end  of  the  hall." 

"Then  enybody  could  git  'em  en  put  'em  back  while  you 
wuz  asleep." 

"She  couldn't  knock  you  senseless.  You're  talking 
wild." 

"I've  schemed  that  out.  Thar's  tracks  in  the  gyardin  not 
so  blinded  but  they  kin  give  a  hint  ter  a  blind  boss.  Thar's 
a  track  nigh  whar  I  fell  mighty  like  what  that  infernal  nig- 
ger Chunk  ud  make.  Beyond,  ez  ef  some  uns  had  hidden 
in  the  bushes,  right  in  the  gyarden  bed,  air  two  little  woman- 
like tracks  en  two  men  tracks. ' ' 

Whately  ground  his  teeth  and  muttered  an  oath. 

"I  don't  s'pose  I  kin  prove  anything  'elusive,"  resumed 
Perkins,  "en  I  don't  s'pose  it  ud  be  best  ef  I  could.  Ef  she 
was  up  ter  such  deviltry,  of  co'se  you  don't  want  hit  gen'ly 
known.  Bigger  ossifers  'n  you  ud  have  ter  notice  it.  Ef  I 
was  in  yu  shoes  howsomever,  in  huntin'  shy  game,  I  could 
use  sech  a  clar  s'picion  agin  her  en  be  mo'  on  my  gyard 
inter  the  bargain. " 


244  ''MISS  LOW 

"I  can  use  it  and  will,"  said  Whately,  sternly.  ** Per- 
kins, keep  your  eyes  wide  open  in  my  behalf.  If  that  Yankee 
or  Chunk  ever  come  within  our  reach  again — the  nigger 
stole  my  horse  and  brought  the  Yank  here  too  in  time  to 
prevent  the  wedding,  I  believe." 

"Eeck'n  he  did,  Lef tenant." 

"Well,  he  and  his  master  may  be  within  our  reach  again. 
We  had  better  not  be  seen  much  together.  I  will  reward 
you  well  for  any  real  service,"  and  he  strode  away  in  strong 
perturbation. 

"Hang  your  reward,"  muttered  Perkins.  "You  think 
you're  goin'  ter  use  me  when  the  boot's  on  t'other  foot. 
You  shall  pay  me  fer  doin'  my  work.  I  couldn't  wish  the 
gal  nuthin'  worse  than  ter  marry  you.  That  ud  satisfy  my 
grudge  agin  her,  but  ef  I  get  my  claws  on  that  nigger  en 
dom'neerin'  Yank  of  a  master" — his  teeth  came  together 
after  the  grim  fashion  of  a  bulldog,  by  way  of  completing 
his  soliloquy. 

The  spring  evening  deepened  from  twilight  into  dusk, 
the  moon  rose  and  shone  with  mild  radiance  over  the  scene 
that  had  abounded  in  gloom,  tragedy  and  adventure  the 
night  before.  The  conflict  which  then  had  taken  place  now 
caused  the  pathetic  life-and-death  struggles  occurring  in 
and  about  the  old  mansion.  In  the  onset  of  battle  muscle 
and  the  impulse  to  destroy  dominated ;  now  the  heart,  with 
its  deep  longings,  its  memories  of  home  and  kindred,  the 
soul  with  its  solemn  thoughts  of  an  unknown  phase  of  life 
which  might  be  near,  came  to  the  fore,  rendering  the  long, 
doubtful  struggle  complex  indeed. 

The  stillness  was  broken  only  by  the  steps  and  voices  of 
attendants  and  the  irrepressible  groans  of  those  who  watched 
for  the  day  with  hope  that  waxed  and  waned  as  the  case 
might  be.  Uncle  Lusthah  yearned  over  the  Federal  wounded 
with  a  great  pity,  the  impression  that  they  were  suffering 
for  him  and  his  people  banishing  sleep.  He  hovered  among 
them  all  night  long,  bringing  water  to  fevered  lips  and  say- 
ing a  word  of  Christian  cheer  to  any  who  would  listen. 


A    BACKGROUND   OF  EGOTISM  245 

Miss  Lou  wakened  with  the  dawn  and  recognized  with 
gladness  that  her  strength  and  courage  for  work  had  been 
restored.  Even  more  potent  than  thoughts  of  Scoville  was 
the  impulse  to  be  at  work  again,  especially  among  those 
with  whom  she  inevitably  associated  him.  Dressing  hastily, 
she  went  first  to  see  the  old  Confederate  colonel.  He  was 
evidently  failing  fast.  Ackley  and  an  attendant  were  watch- 
ing him.  He  looked  at  the  girl,  smiled  and  held  out  his 
.  hand.     She  took  it  and  sat  down  beside  him. 

*'Ah!"  he  said  feebly,  '* this  is  a  good  deal  better  than 
dying  alone.  Would  you  mind,  my  child,  writing  some 
things  I  would  like  to  say  to  my  family?" 

Miss  Lou  brought  her  portfolio  and  tearfully  received 
his  dying  messages. 

*'Poor  little  girl!'^  said  the  colonel,  "you  are  witnessing 
scenes  very  strange  to  you.  Try  to  keep  your  heart  tender 
and  womanly,  no  matter  what  you  see.  Such  tears  as  yours 
reveal  the  power  to  help  and  bless,  not  weakness.  I  can 
say  to  you  all  the  sacred,  farewell  words  which  would  be 
hard  to  speak  to  others." 

Brokenly,  with  many  pauses  from  weakness,  he  dictated 
his  last  letter,  and  she  wrote  his  words  as  well  as  she  could 
see  to  do  so.  "They  will  be  all  the  sweeter  and  more  sooth- 
ing for  your  tears,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

He  kept  up  with  wonderful  composure  until  he  came  to 
his  message  to  "little  Hal,"  his  youngest  child.  Then  the 
old  soldier  broke  down  and  reached  out  his  arms  in  vain  yet 
irrepressible  longing.  "Oh,  if  I  could  kiss  the  little  fellow 
just  once  before — "  he  moaned. 

For  a  few  moments  he  and  the  girl  at  his  side  just  wept 
together,  and  then  the  old  man  said  almost  sternly,  "Tell 
him  to  honor  his  mother  and  his  God,  to  live  for  the  South, 
for  which  his  father  died.  Say,  if  he  will  do  this  he  shall 
have  my  blessing,  not  without.  Now,  my  child,  I  trust  this 
letter  to  you.  Good-by  and  God  bless  you.  I  wish  to  be 
alone  a  little  while  and  face  the  last  enemy  calmly." 

As  she  knelt  down  and  kissed  him  tears  again  rushed  to 


246  "MISS   LOV 

his  eyes  and  he  murmured,  "That  was  good  and  sweet  of 
you,  my  child.  Keep  your  heart  simple  and  tender  as  it  is 
now.     Good-by. ' ' 

Keturning  to  her  room  with  the  portfolio  she  met  her 
cousin  in  the  upper  hall.  He  fixed  his  eyes  searchingly 
upon  her  and  with  the  air  of  one  who  knew  very  much 
began,  "Cousin  Lou,  my  eyes  are  not  so  often  blinded  with 
tears  as  yours,  yet  they  see  more  perhaps  than  you  are  aware 
of.  I'm  willing  to  woo  you  as  gallantly  as  can  any  man, 
but  you've  got  to  keep  some  faith  with  me  as  the  represent- 
ative of  our  house  and  of  the  cause  which,  as  a  Southern 
girl,  should  be  first  always  in  its  claims." 

Her  heart  fluttered,  for  his  words  suggested  both  knowl- 
edge and  a  menace.  At  the  same  time  the  scenes  she  had 
passed  through,  especially  the  last,  lifted  her  so  far  above 
his  plane  of  life  that  she  shrank  from  him  with  something 
very  like  contempt. 

''Do  you  know  what  I  have  been  writing?"  she  asked 
sternly. 

' '  1  neither  know  nor  care.  I  only  wish  you  to  understand 
that  you  cannot  trifle  with  me  nor  wrong  me  with  impunity. ' ' 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  with  a  strong  repellant  gesture,  "why 
can't  you  see  and  understand  ?  You  fairly  make  me  loathe 
the  egotism  which,  in  scenes  like  these,  can  think  only  of 
self.  As  if  I  had  either  time  or  inclination  to  be  trifling 
with  you,  whatever  you  mean  by  that.  Brave  men  are 
dying  heroically  and  unselfishly,  thinking  of  others,  while 
'I,  me  and  gallant  wooing,'  combined  with  vague  threats 
against  one  whom  you  are  in  honor  bound  to  protect,  are 
the  only  words  on  your  lips.  How  can  you  be  so  unmanly  ? 
What  are  you,  compared  with  that  noble  old  colonel  whose 
last  words  I  have  just  received  ?  If  you  care  a  straw  for 
my  opinion,  why  are  you  so  foolish  as  to  compel  me  to  draw 
comparisons?  Do,  for  manhood's  sake,  forget  yourself  for 
once. ' ' 

He  was  almost  livid  from  rage  as  he  replied  harshly, 
"You'll  rue  these  words  I" 


A    BACKGROUND    OF  EGOTISM  247 

She  looked  at  him  scornfnlly  as  she  said,  "It's  strange, 
but  your  words  and  expression  remind  me  of  Perkins.  He 
might  make  you  a  good  ally. ' ' 

In  his  confusion  and  anger  he  blurted  out,  "Little  won- 
der you  think  of  him.  You  and  that  accursed  nigger, 
Chunk—" 

"Hush!"  she  interrupted  in  a  low,  imperious  voice, 
"hush,  lest  as  representative  of  our  house  you  disgrace 
yourself  beyond  hope."  And  she  passed  quickly  to  her 
room. 

Within  less  than  an  hour  he  was  asking  himself  in  bitter 
self-upbraiding,  "What  have  I  gained?  What  can  I  do? 
Prefer  charges  against  my  own  cousin  which  I  cannot  prove  ? 
Impossible!  Oh,  I've  been  a  fool  again.  I  should  have 
kept  that  knowledge  secret  till  I  could  use  it  for  a  definite 
purpose.     I'll  break  her  spirit  yet." 

If  he  had  seen  her  after  she  reached  her  room  he  might 
have  thought  it  broken  then.  Vague  dread  of  the  conse- 
quences of  an  act  which,  from  his  words,  she  believed  he 
knew  far  more  about  than  he  did,  mingled  with  her  anger 
and  feelings  of  repugnance.  "Oh,"  she  moaned,  "it  was 
just  horrible;  it  was  coming  straight  down  from  the  sub- 
lime to  the  contemptible.  That  noble  old  colonel  took  me 
to  the  very  gate  of  heaven.  Now  I'm  fairly  trembling  with 
passion  and  fear.  Oh,  why  will  Cousin  Mad  always  stir  up 
the  very  worst  of  my  feelings!  I'd  rather  suffer  and  die  as 
poor  Yarry  did  than  marry  a  man  who  will  think  only  of 
his  little  self  at  such  a  time  as  this  I" 


248  ''MISS  LOD" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

aun'  jinkey's  supreme  test 

THE  first  long  tragic  day  of  hospital  experience  bad  so  i 
absorbed  Miss  Lou  as  to  relegate  into  the  background 
events  which  a  short  time  before  had  been  beyond  her 
wildest  dreams.  In  the  utter  negation  of  her  life  she  had 
wished  that  something  would  happen,  and  so  much  had 
happened  and  so  swiftly  that  she  was  bewildered.  The 
strangest  thing  of  all  was  the  change  in  herself.  Lovers 
of  the  Whately  and  Maynard  type  could  only  repel  by 
their  tactics.  She  was  too  high-spirited  to  submit  to  the 
one,  and  too  simple  and  sincere,  still  too  much  of  a  child, 
to  feel  anything  but  annoyance  at  the  sentimental  gallantry 
of  the  other.  The  genial  spirit  of  comradeship  in  Scoville, 
could  it  have  been  maintained  through  months  of  ordinary 
life,  would  probably  have  prepared  the  way  for  deeper  feel- 
ing on  the  part  of  both,  but  there  had  been  no  time  for  the 
gradual  development  of  goodwill  and  friendly  understand- 
ing into  something  more.  They  had  been  caught  in  an  un- 
expected whirl  of  events  and  swept  forward  into  relations 
utterly  unforeseen.  He  owed  his  escape  from  much  dreaded 
captivity  and  his  very  life  to  her,  and,  as  he  had  said,  these 
facts,  to  her  generous  nature,  were  even  more  powerful  in 
their  influence  than  if  she  herself  had  received  the  priceless 
favors.  At  the  same  time,  her  course  toward  him,  dictated 
at  first  by  mere  humanity,  then  goodwill,  had  made  his  re- 
gard for  her  seem  natural  even  to  her  girlish  heart.  If  she 
had  read  it  all  in  a  book,  years  before,  she  would  have  said, 
*' A  man  couldn't  do  less  than  love  one  when  fortune  had 
enabled  her  to  do  so  much  for  him."     So  she  had  simply 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   SUPREME    TEST  249 

approved  of  his  declaration,  down  by  the  run,  of  affection 
for  which  she  was  not  yet  ready,  and  she  approved  of  him 
all  the  more  fondly  because  he  did  not  passionately  and 
arbitrarily  demand  or  expect  that  she  should  feel  as  he  did, 
in  return.  "I  didn't,"  she  had  said  to  herself  a  score  of 
times,  "and  that  was  enough  for  him." 

When  later,  for  his  sake,  she  faced  the  darkness  of  mid- 
night, a  peril  she  dared  not  contemplate,  and  the  cruel  mis- 
judgment  which  would  follow  her  action  if  discovered,  some- 
thing deeper  awoke  in  her  nature — something  kindled  into 
strong,  perplexing  life  when,  in  his  passionate  gratitude,  he 
had  snatched  her  in  his  arms  and,  as  she  had  said,  "given 
her  his  whole  heart  because  he  couldn't  help  himself." 
From  that  moment,  on  her  part  there  had  been  no  more 
merely  kind,  tranquil  thoughts  about  Scoville,  but  a  shy, 
trembling,  blushing  self-consciousness  even  when  in  soli- 
tude his  image  rose  before  her. 

As  she  sought  to  regain  composure  after  the  last  inter- 
view with  her  cousin,  and  to  think  of  her  best  course  in 
view  of  what  seemed  his  dangerous  knowledge,  a  truth, 
kept  back  thus  far  by  solemn  and  absorbing  scenes,  sud- 
denly became  dear  to  her.  The  spirit  of  all-consuming 
selfishness  again  manifested  by  Whately,  revealed  as  never 
before  the  gulf  of  abject  misery  into  which  she  would  have 
fallen  as  his  wife.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  Lieutenant  Sco- 
ville I  might  now  have  been  his  despairing  bond  slave,"  she 
thought;  "I  might  have  been  any  way  if  the  Northern  offi- 
cer were  any  other  kind  of  a  man,  brutal,  coarse,  as  I  had 
been  led  to  expect,  or  even  indifferent  and  stupid.  1  might 
have  been  forced  into  relations  from  which  1  could  not  es- 
cape and  then  have  learned  afterward  what  noble,  unselfish 
men  there  are  in  the  world.  Oh,  I  could  marry  Allan  Sco- 
ville, I  could  love  him  and  devote  my  life  to  him  wholly, 
knowing  all  the  time  that  I  needn't  protect  myself,  because 
he  would  always  be  a  kinder,  truer,  better  protector.  How 
little  I  have  done  for  him  compared  with  that  from  which 
he  has  saved  me!" 


250  *'MISS  LOU" 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  Zany  quickly  en- 
tered. "I  des  slip  off  while  ole  miss  in  de  sto'-room,  ter 
gib  you  a  warnin',  Miss  Lou.  Hain't  had  no  charnce  till 
dis  minit.  Dat  ar  ole  fox,  Perkins,  been  snoopin'  roun' 
yistidy  arter  we  un's  tracks  en  las'  night  he  tell  Mad 
Whately  a  heap  ob  his  'jecterin'." 

•'But,  Zany,"  said  Miss  Lou,  "you  don't  think  they 
know  anything." 

"Beck'n  hit's  all  des  'jecterin',"  Zany  replied.  "Kyant 
be  nufin'  else.  We  des  got  ter  face  hit  out.  Doan  you  fear 
on  me.  We  uns  mus'  des  star  stupid-like  ef  dey  ax  ques- 
tions, ' '  and  she  whisked  off  again. 

The  girl  felt  that  the  spirit  of  Zany's  counsel  would  be 
the  best  policy  to  adopt.  While  she  might  not  **star  stupid- 
like," she  could  so  coldly  ignore  all  reference  to  Scoville's 
escape  as  to  embarrass  any  one  who  sought  to  connect  her 
with  it.  In  the  clearer  consciousness  of  her  feeling  toward 
the  Union  officer  her  heart  grew  glad  and  strong  at  the 
thought  of  the  service  she  had  rendered  him,  nor  did  it 
shrink  at  suffering  for  his  sake.  A  gratitude  quite  as  strong 
as  his  own  now  possessed  her  that  he  had  been  the  means  of 
keeping  her  from  a  union  dreaded  even  as  an  ignorant  child, 
and  now  known,  by  the  love  which  made  her  a  woman,  to  be 
earthly  perdition. 

"Having  escaped  that,"  she  reflected,  "there's  nothing 
else  1  greatly  fear,"  and  she  went  down  to  breakfast  resolv- 
ing that  she  would  be  so  faithful  in  her  duties  as  a  nurse 
that  no  one  in  authority  would  listen  to  her  cousin  or  Perkins 
if  they  sought  to  make  known  their  surmises. 

Ignorant  of  her  son's  action  and  its  results,  Mrs.  Whately 
met  her  niece  kindly  and  insisted  that  she  should  not  leave 
the  dining-room  until  she  had  partaken  of  the  breakfast  now 
almost  ready.  Captain  Maynard  joined  her  with  many  ex- 
pressions of  a  solicitude  which  the  girl  felt  to  be  very  un- 
called for,  yet  in  her  instinct  to  propitiate  every  one  in  case 
her  action  should  be  questioned,  she  was  more  friendly  to 
him  than  at  any  time  before.     Meanwhile,  she  was  asking 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   SUPREME   TEST  251 

herself,  "What  would  they  do  to  me  if  all  was  found  out?" 
and  sustaining  herself  by  the  thought,  "Whatever  they  do 
to  me,  they  can't  reach  Lieutenant  Scoville." 

It  was  gall  and  bitterness  to  Whately  to  find  her  talking 
affably  to  Maynard,  but  before  the  meal  was  over  she  had 
the  address  to  disarm  him  in  some  degree.  For  his  own 
sake  as  well  as  hers  and  the  family's  she  thought,  "I  must 
not  irritate  him  into  hasty  action.  If  he  should  find  out, 
and  reveal  everything,  no  matter  what  happened  to  me,  h© 
would  bring  everlasting  disgrace  on  himself  and  relatives. 
I  could  at  least  show  that  my  motives  were  good,  no  matter 
how  soldiers,  with  their  harsh  laws,  might  act  toward  me; 
but  what  motive  could  excuse  him  for  placing  laie,  a  young 
girl  and  his  cousin,  in  such  a  position  ?" 

Whately  had  already  satisfied  himself  that  no  pretence 
of  zeal  for  the  service  could  conceal  his  real  motive  or  save 
him  from  general  scorn  should  he  speak  of  the  mere  conjec- 
tures of  a  man  like  Perkins.  He  had  never  meant  to  speak 
of  them  publicly,  simply  to  use  his  knowledge  as  a  means 
of  influencing  his  cousin.  He  now  doubted  the  wisdom  of 
this.  Eeacting  from  one  mood  to  another,  as  usual,  his 
chief  hope  now  was  that  some  unexpected  turn  of  fortune's 
wheel  would  bring  his  opportunity.  The  one  thing  which 
all  the  past  unfitted  him  to  accept  was  personal  and  final 
denial.  His  egotism  and  impatience  at  being  crossed  began 
to  manifest  itself  in  another  direction,  one  suggested  by 
Maynard's  evident  susceptibility  to  his  cousin's  attractions. 
"Here  is  a  chance,"  he  thought,  "of  righting  myself  in 
Lou's  eyes.  If  this  fellow,  thrown  into  her  society  by  the 
fortune  of  war,  not  by  courtesy,  presumptuously  goes  be- 
yond a  certain  point  in  his  attentions.  Cousin  Lou  will  find 
that  no  knight  of  olden  time  would  have  fought  for  her 
quicker  than  I  will.  Mother  says  she  is  one  who  must 
have  her  romance.  She  may  have  it  with  a  vengeance. 
It  may  open  her  eyes  to  the  truth  that  a  spirit  like  mine 
brooks  no  opposition,  and  when  she  sees  that  I  am  ready 
to  face  death  for  her  she  will  admire,  respect,  and  yield  to 


262  *'MISS   LOU" 

a   nature   that  is   haughty   and   like   that  of   the   old   no- 
bility." 

Thus  he  blinded  himself  in  these  vain,  silly  vaporings, 
the  result  of  a  false  training  and  the  reading  of  stilted 
romances.  The  thought  of  studying  the  girl's  character, 
of  doing  and  being  in  some  degree  what  would  be  agreeable 
to  her,  never  occurred  to  him.  That  kind  of  good  sense 
rarely  does  occur  to  the  egotistical,  who  often  fairly  ex- 
asperate those  whom  they  would  please  by  utter  blindness 
to  the  simple  things  which  are  pleasing.  Miss  Lou  had 
read  more  old  romances  than  he,  but  she  speedily  outgrew 
the  period  in  which  she  was  carried  away  by  the  fantastic 
heroes  described.  They  became  in  her  fancy  the  other  ex- 
treme of  the  matter-of-fact  conditions  in  which  her  uncle 
and  aunt  had  lived,  and  as  we  have  seen,  she  longed  to 
know  the  actual  world,  to  meet  with  people  who  did  not 
seem  alien  to  her  young  and  natural  sympathies.  Each 
new  character  she  met  became  a  kind  of  revelation  to  her. 
She  was  the  opposite  pole  of  the  society  belle,  whose  eyes 
have  wearied  of  humanity,  who  knows  little  and  cares  less 
for  anything  except  her  mirrored  image.  With  something 
of  the  round- eyed  curiosity  and  interest  of  a  child,  she 
looked  at  every  new  face,  asking  herself,  "What  is  he 
like?"  not  whether  he  will  like  and  admire  me,  although 
she  had  not  a  little  feminine  pleasure  in  discovering  that 
strangers  were  inclined  to  do  this.  Her  disapproval  of 
Maynard  arose  chiefly  from  the  feeling  that  his  gallantry 
at  such  a  time,  with  the  dead  and  dying  all  about  them,  was 
"more  shocking  than  a  game  of  cards  on  Sunday."  She 
regarded  his  attentions,  glances,  tones,  as  mere  well-bred 
persiflage^  indulged  in  for  his  own  amusement,  and  she  put 
him  down  as  a  trifler  for  his  pains.  That  he,  as  she  would 
phrase  it,  "was  just  smitten  without  any  rhyme  or  reason" 
seemed  preposterous.  She  had  done  nothing  for  him  as  she 
had  for  Scoville.  The  friendly  or  the  frankly  admiring 
looks  of  strangers,  the  hearty  gratitude  and  goodwill  of 
the  wounded,  she  could  accept  with  as  much  pleasure  as 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   SUPREME    TEST  253 

any  of  her  sex;  bat  she  had  not  yet  recognized  that  type 
of  man  who  looks  at  a  pretty  woman  and  is  disposed  to 
make  love  to  her  at  once.  "Why  does  Captain  Maynard 
stare  at  me  so?"  she  asked  herself,  *'when  I  don't  care  a 
thistle  for  him  and  never  will.  Why  should  I  care?  Why 
should  he  care?  Does  he  think  I'm  silly  and  shallow 
enough  to  be  amused  by  this  kind  of  thing  when  that 
brave  old  colonel  is  dying  across  the  hall?" 

It  was  a  relief  to  her  to  escape  from  him  and  Whately 
and  to  visit  even  poor  Waldo,  dying  also,  as  she  believed. 
"Dr.  Ackley,"  she  said,  "you  may  trust  me  to  give  him  his 
food  now  every  two  hours.     I  won't  break  down  again." 

"You  did  not  break  down,  Miss  Baron.  All  my  nurses 
have  their  hours  off.  Why  shouldn't  you?  I  reckon,"  he 
added,  smiling,  "you'll  have  to  obey  my  orders  like  the 
rest.     I  will  go  with  jou  again  on  this  visit." 

To  her  the  youth  seemed  ghastlier  than  ever,  but  the 
exp»ession  of  gladness  in  his  eyes  was  unchanged. 

"Miss  Baron  feels  very  remorseful  that  she  has  not  been 
to  see  you  before,"  said  Dr.  Ackley,  "but  her  labors  yester- 
day were  so  many  and  varied  that  she  had  to  rest.  She  will 
do  better  by  you  to-day." 

Waldo  could  only  reach  his  hand  feebly  toward  her  in 
welcome.  She  took  the  brown,  shapely  hand  in  both  of 
hers  and  it  made  her  sad  to  feel  how  cold  and  limp  it  was. 
"But  a  few  hours  ago,"  she  thought,  "it  was  striking  blows 
with  a  heavy  sabre." — "I  have  brought  you  some  strong, 
hot  soup,"  she  said  gently,  "and  shall  bring  it  every  two 
hoars.  You'll  be  very  good  and  take  it  from  me,  won't 
you?" 

He  laughed  as  he  nodded  assent. 

"When  can  I  begin  to  read  to  him,  doctor,  to  help  him 
pass  the  time?" 

"Perhaps  to-morrow  if  he  does  well,  but  never  more 
than  a  few  minutes  together  until  I  permit  Slow  and 
sare,  Waldo,  slow  and  sure  are  my  orders,  and  you  are  too 
good  a  soldier  to  disobey." 


254  ''MISS  LOU" 

He  shook  his  h^ad  mischievously  and  whispered  "Insub- 
ordinate." 

The  doctor  nodded  portentously  and  said,  "If  you  and 
Miss  Baron  don't  obey  orders  I'll  put  you  both  under 
arrest." 

This  seemed  to  amuse  the  young  fellow  immensely  and 
he  was  about  to  speak  again,  but  the  surgeon  put  his  finger 
to  his  lips  and  departed. 

As  she  was  feeding  him  with  eyes  full  of  gentle  commis- 
eration his  lips  framed  the  words,  "You  can  talk  to  me." 

She  scarcely  knew  how  to  do  this.  There  were  questions 
she  was  eager  to  ask,  for  his  strange,  exuberant  happiness 
under  the  circumstances  were  hard  to  understand,  even  after 
Dr.  Ackley's  explanation.  She  had  never  seen  religion 
produce  any  such  results.  Uncle  Lusthah  seemed  to  her 
very  sincere  and  greatly  sustained  in  his  faith,  but  he  had 
always  been  to  her  a  sorrowful,  plaintive  figure,  mourning 
for  lost  kindred  whom  slavery  had  scattered.  Like  the 
ancient  prophets  also,  his  heart  was  ever  burdened  by 
the  waywardness  of  the  people  whom  he  exhorted  and 
warned.  In  young  Waldo  appeared  a  joyousness  which 
nothing  could  quench.  From  the  moment  she  obtained  a 
clew  to  his  unexpected  behavior,  everything  in  his  manner 
accorded  with  the  surgeon's  explanation.  In  his  boyish 
face  and  expression  there  was  not  a  trace  of  the  fanatical 
or  abnormal.  He  seemed  to  think  of  Heaven  as  he  did  of 
his  own  home,  and  the  thought  of  going  to  the  one  inspired 
much  the  same  feeling  as  returning  to  the  other. 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Lou,  after  a  little  hesitancy,  "it  is  a 
pleasure  to  wait  on  one  who  is  so  brave  and  cheerful.  It 
makes  me  feel  ashamed  of  worrying   over  my  troubles." 

He  motioned  her  to  get  something  under  his  pillow  and 
she  drew  out  a  small  Testament.  With  the  ease  of  perfect 
familiarity  he  turned  the  leaves  and  pointed  to  the  words, 
"Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest."  He  looked  up  at  her,  smiled  brightly, 
and  shook  his  head  when  he  saw  tears  in  her  eyes.     Again 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   SUPREME    TEST  255 

he  turned  the  leaves  and  pointed  to  other  words,  "Beloved, 
think  it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial  which  is  to  try 
you,  as  though  some  strange  thing  happened  unto  you :  but 
rejoice,  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers  of  Christ's  sufferings; 
that,  when  his  glory  shall  be  revealed,  ye  may  be  glad  also 
with  exceeding  joy. ' '  His  expression  was  wonderfully  sig- 
nificant in  its  content,  for  it  was  that  of  one  who  had  ex- 
plained and  accounted  for  everything. 

"Oh,"  she  faltered,  "I  wish  I  felt  as  you  do,  believed 
as  you  do.  I  hope  you  will  get  strong  soon.  I  would  like 
to  tell  you  some  things  which  trouble  me  very  much,  and 
there  is  no  one  I  can  tell." 

* '  By  and  by,  "he  whispered.    "  Don' t  worry.    AIJ  right. ' ' 

"Oh,  what  does  this  mean  ?"  she  thought  as  she  returned 
to  the  house.  "Awfully  wounded,  suffering,  dying  perhaps, 
yet  'glad  with  an  exceeding  joy' !  Uncle  and  aunt  haven't 
any  idea  of  such  a  religion,  and  for  some  reason  Dr.  "Wil- 
liams never  gave  me  any  such  idea  of  it  at  church.  Why 
didn't  he?  Was  it  my  fault?  What  he  said  seemed  just 
words  that  made  little  or  no  impression.  Since  he  tried  to 
marry  me  to  Cousin  Mad  I  feel  as  if  I  could  scarcely  bear 
the  sight  of  him." 

Yet  he  was  the  first  one  to  greet  her  on  the  veranda. 
He  spoke  with  formal  kindness,  but  she  responded  merely 
by  a  grave  salutation,  and  passed  on,  for  she  felt  that  he 
should  have  understood  and  protected  her  in  the  most  terri- 
ble emergency  of  her  young  life. 

Having  looked  after  the  safety  of  his  family,  he  had 
returned  with  the  best  and  sincerest  intentions  to  minister 
to  the  wounded.  If  the  good  he  would  do  corresponded 
with  these  intentions  he  would  have  been  welcomed  in  most 
instances;  but  he  possessed  that  unfortunate  temperament 
which  is  only  one  remove  for  the  better  from  a  cold  indiffer- 
ence to  his  sacred  duties.  He  did  not  possess  a  particle  of 
that  mysterious,  yet  in  his  calling  priceless,  gift  termed 
magnetism  for  the  lack  of  a  better  definition.  All  respected 
him,  few  warmed  toward  him  or  thought  of  opening  to  him 


256  ''MISS   LOU** 

their  hearts.  His  mrnd  was  literal,  and  within  it  the  doc- 
trines were  like  labelled  and  separate  packages,  from  which 
he  took  from  time  to  time  what  he  wanted  as  he  would  sup- 
plies from  a  store-room.  God  was  to  him  a  Sovereign  and 
a  Judge  who  would  save  a  few  of  the  human  race  in  exact 
accordance  with  the  creed  of  the  Church  in  which  the  good 
man  had  been  trained.  What  would  happen  to  those  with- 
out its  pale  was  one  of  those  solemn  mysteries  with  which 
he  had  naught  to  do.  Conscientious  in  his  idea  of  duty  to 
the  last  degree,  he  nevertheless  might  easily  irritate  and 
repel  many  minds  by  a  rigid  presentation  of  the  only  for- 
mula of  faith  which  he  deemed  safe  and  adequate.  It 
seemed  his  chief  aim  to  have  every  form  and  ceremony 
of  his  Church  complied  with,  and  then  his  responsibility 
ceased.  He  and  Mr.  Baron  had  taken  solid  comfort  in  each 
other,  both  agreeing  on  ev^ry  point  of  doctrine  and  politics. 
Both  men  honestly  felt  that  if  the  world  could  be  brought 
to  accept  their  view  of  life  and  duty  little  would  be  left  to 
be  desired.  When  summoned  to  perform  the  marriage  cere- 
mony Dr.  Williams  no  more  comprehended  the  desperate 
opposition  of  Miss  Lou  to  the  will  of  her  guardian,  the 
shrinking,  instinctive  protest  of  her  woman's  nature,  than 
he  did  the  hostility  of  so  many  in  the  world  to  the  tenets 
of  his  faith.  His  inability  to  understand  the  feelings,  the 
mental  attitude  of  others  who  did  not  unquestioningly  ac- 
cept his  views  and  approve  the  action  of  the  "powers  that 
be"  was  perhaps  the  chief  obstacle  to  his  usefulness.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  degree  intolerant  or  vindictive  toward 
those  who  opposed  him;  his  feeling  rather  was,  "This  is 
your  opportunity.  I  gladly  afford  it  and  there  my  responsi- 
bility ceases" — a  comfortable  sort  of  belief  to  many,  but  one 
that  would  not  satisfy  a  warm,  earnest  nature  like  Paul's, 
who  said,  "To  the  weak  I  became  as  weak,  that  I  might 
gain  the  weak:  I  am  made  all  things  to  all  men,  that  I 
might  by  all  means  save  some."  Paul  would  have  found 
some  way  to  reach  the  ear  and  heart  of  nearly  every 
wounded  man  in  the  extemporized   hospital,   but  for  the 


AUN'   JINKEY'S   SUPREME    TEST  257 

reasons  suggested  the  visits  of  poor  Dr.  Williams  soon 
began  to  be  very  generally  dreaded.  Old  Uncle  Lusthah 
had  far  better  success  with  those  who  would  listen  to  him. 

Miss  Lou  soon  found  her  way  to  the  Federal  wounded 
again.  While  agreeably  to  her  wishes  there  was  no  formal- 
ity in  her  reception,  it  was  evident  that  the  poor  fellows  had 
now  learned  to  regard  her  with  deep  affection. 

*'I  have  told  them  all,"  said  Dr.  Borden  who  received 
her,  "that  you  did  as  Yarry  wished,  that  you  took  a  good 
rest  and  were  looking  this  morning  as  you  should,  and  it 
has  pleased  them  greatly.  Phillips  died  last  night,  and  has 
been  removed.  He  hadn't  any  chance  and  did  not  suffer 
much.  Eemembering  your  wishes,  we  kept  Yarry  here. 
He  lies  there  as  if  he  were  dozing  after  his  pipe,  as  he 
wished  you  to  think." 

The  girl  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  dead  soldier  and  for  a 
moment  or  two  looked  silently  into  the  still,  peaceful  face. 
Quietly  and  reverently  the  surgeon  and  others  took  off  their 
hats  and  waited  till  she  should  speak.  "Oh,"  she  breathed 
softly  at  last,  "how  thoughtful  and  considerate  you  have 
been!  You  have  made  this  brave,  unselfish  man  look  just 
as  if  he  were  quietly  sleeping  in  »his  uniform.  There  is 
nothing  terrible  or  painful  in  his  aspect  as  he  lies  there 
on  his. side.  Poor  generous- hearted  fellow!  I  believe  he 
is  at  rest,  as  now  he  seems  to  be.  I  want  you  all  to  know," 
she  added,  looking  round,  "that  he  shall  be  buried  where  I 
can  often  visit  his  grave  and  keep  it  from  neglect,  for  I  can 
never  forget  the  kindness  that  he — that  you  all  have  shown 
me.  Dr.  Borden,  I  will  now  show  Uncle  Lusthah  the  place 
where  I  wish  the  grave  to  be,  and  when  all  is  ready  I  will 
come  and  follow  poor  Yarry  to  it.  Do  you  think  there 
ought  to  be  a  minister?  There  is  one  here  now — Dr.  Wil- 
liams, who  has  a  church  near  the  Court  House." 

"Just  as  you  wish,  Miss  Baron.  For  one,  I  think  a 
prayer  from  Uncle  Lusthah,  as  you  call  him,  would  do  jus4 
as  well  and  be  more  in  accordance  with  Yarry 's  feelings  if 
he  could  express  them.     The  old  negro  has  been  in  and  out 


258  ''MISS   LOU*' 

nearly  all  night,  waiting  on  the  men,  and  has  won  their 
goodwill.     He  certainly  is  a  good  old  soul." 

"I  agree  with  the  doctor,"  added  Captain  Hanfield. 
*'Were  it  my  case  I'd  ask  nothing  better  than  a  prayer 
from  Uncle  Lusthah  over  my  grave,  for  he  has  acted  like 
a  good,  patient  old  saint  among  us. ' ' 

A  murmur  of  approval  from  the  others  followed  these 
words,  and  so  it  was  arranged.  Uncle  Lusthah  was  soon 
found,  and  he  followed  the  girl  to  the  shadow  of  a  great 
pine  by  the  run  and  adjacent  to  the  grassy  plot  with  which 
the  girl  would  ever  associate  Allan  Scoville.  It  was  there 
that  she  had  looked  into  his  eyes  and  discovered  what  her 
own  heart  was  now  teaching  her  to  understand. 

Aun'  Jinkey  followed  them  from  her  cabin  and  asked, 
*' Wat  you  gwine  ter  do  yere,  honey  ?" 

"Bury  here  a  Norther  soldier  who  has  done  me  a  very 
great  honor." 

"Oh,  Miss  Lou,  I  des  feared  ter  hab  'im  so  neah  de 
cabin. ' ' 

"Hush!"  said  the  girl,  almost  sternly.  '* Uncle  Lusthah, 
you  ought  to  teach,  mammy  better  than  that. ' ' 

"Ah,  youn'  mistis,  hit's  bred  in  de  bone.  I  des  mourns 
ober  my  people,  'fusin'  ter  be  comf 'ted.  Yere  Aun'  Jinkey, 
gittin'  gray  lak  me.  She  a  'fessor  ob  religion,  ye  de  word 
*spook'  set  her  all  a  tremble.  Ef  dey  is  spooks,  Aun' 
Jinkey,  w'at  dat  ter  you?  Dere's  tunder  en  lightnin'  en 
yearthquJtkes  en  wurin'  iliments  en  all  kin'  ob  miseries  ob 
de  body.  Who  gwine  ter  keep  all  dem  fum  yo'  cabin  ? 
Keck'n  you  betteah  trus'  de  Lawd  'bout  spooks  too." 

"You  don't  believe  in  any  such  foolishness.  Uncle 
Lusthah?" 

"Well,  young  mistis,  I  gettin' po'ful  ole  en  I  al'ays 
yeared  on  spooks  sence  I  kin  reckermember.  I  neber  seed 
one  fer  sho,  but  I'se  had  strange  'sper'ences  o'  nights,  en 
dar's  dem  w'at  sez  dey  has  seen  de  sperets  ob  de  'parted. 
I  dunno.  Dere's  sump'n  in  folk's  buzzums  dat  takes  on 
quar  sometimes,  ez  ef  we  libin'  mighty  close  on  ter  a  worl' 


AUN'    JINKEY'S   SUPREME    TEST  259 

we  kyant  mos'  al'ays  see.  Dat  ar  doan  trouble  me  nohow, 
en  Aun'  Jinkey  orter  know  bettah.  Ei  de  Lawd  'mits 
spooks,  dat  He  business.  He  'mits  lots  ob  tings  we  kyant 
see  troo.  Look  at  dese  yere  old  ban's,  young  mistis.  Dey's 
wuked  nigh  on  eighty  yeah,  yit  dey  neber  wuked  fer  mysef, 
dey  neber  wuked  fer  wife  en  chil'n.  Dat  mo'  quar  dan 
spooks." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  said  the  girl  thought- 
fully. "I  didn't  know  you  felt  so  about  being  free.  Aun' 
Jinkey  never  seemed  to  trouble  much  about  it." 

"I'se  'feared  Aun'  Jinkey  tink  a  heap  on  de  leeks  en 
inions  ob  Egypt. ' ' 

"Dar  now.  Uncle  Lusthah,  you  po'ful  good  man,  but  you 
owns  up  you  doan  know  nufin'  'bout  spooks,  en  I  knows 
you  doan  know  nufin'  'bout  freedom." 

"Yes  I  does,"  replied  Uncle  Lusthah.  "Ef  de  day  come 
w'en  I  kin  stan'  up  en  say  fer  sho,  'I  own  mysef,  en  God 
ony  my  Mars'r, '  I  kin  starbe  ef  dat  He  will.  En  dat  'minds 
me,  young  mistis.  Is  we  free  ?  Perkins  growlin'  roun'  agin 
dis  mawnin',  en  say  we  he'p  'bout  de  horspital  ter-day,  but 
we  all  go  ter  wuk  ter-morrer.  I  'lowed  he  orter  talk  ter  us 
'bout  wages  en  he  des  larf  en  cuss  me.  Wat's  gwine  ter  be 
de  end?  Marse  Scoville  en  de  big  Linkum  gin'ral  say  we 
free,  en  Perkins  larf  'temptuous  like.  We  des  all  a-lookin' 
ter  you,  young  mistis. "  . 

"Oh,  uncle!  what  can  I  do?" 

"Shame  on  you.  Uncle  Lusthah,  fer  pilin'  up  sech  a  heap 
ob  'plexity  on  my  honey,"  cried  Aun'  Jinkey,  who  was  as 
practical  as  she  was  superstitious.  "I  kin  tell  you  w'at  ter 
do.  I  doan  projeck  en  smoke  in  my  chimbly-corner  fer 
not'n.  W'at  kin  you  do  but  do  ez  you  tole  twel  Marse 
Scoville  en  de  Linkum  gin'ral  come  agin?  S'pose  you  say 
you  woan  wuk  en  woan  'bey,  how  you  hole  out  agin  Perkins 
en  Mad  Whately  ?  Dey'd  tar  you  all  ter  pieces.  Dey  say 
dis  wah  fer  freedom.  Whar  yo'  patience  twel  de  wah'll  end  ? 
De  Yanks  mus'  do  mo'  dan  say  we  free;  dey  mus'  keep  us 
free.     Dar  Aun'  Suke.     She  sav  she  free  one  minit  en  a 


260  *'MISS   LOW 

slabe  nex'  minute  twel  her  haid  mos'  whirl  oflE  her  shorers. 
Now  she  say,  'I  doan  know  'bout  dis  freedom  business;  I 
does  know  how  ter  cook  en  I'se  gwinter  cook  twel  dey  gets 
troo  a  whirlin'  back  en  forth.'  You  says  I  mus'  trns'  de 
Lawd  'bout  spooks,  Uncle  Lusthah.  W'y  kyant  you  trus' 
de  Lawd  'bout  freedom  ?" 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  sorrowfully,  for  Aun'  Suke 
and  Aun'  Jinkey's  philosophy  didn't  satisfy  him.  "I'se 
willin'  ter  do  my  shar,"  he  said  musingly,  "de  Lawd  knows 
I  be.  Ef  I  cud  die  lak  po'  Marse  Yarry  en  de  oders  fer  free- 
dom I'se  willin'  ter  die." 

"Now,  Uncle  Lusthah,  your  strong  feeling  and  not  your 
good  sense  speaks,"  said  Miss  Lou,  who  had  been  thinking 
earnestly,  meanwhile  recalling  Scoville's  prediction  that  the 
negroes  might  come  to  her  for  help  and  counsel.  "Aun' 
Jinkey  is  certainly  right  in  this  case,  and  you  must  tell  all 
our  people  from  me  that  their  only  safe  course  now  is  to 
obey  all  orders  and  bide  their  time.  Perkins'  authority 
would  be  sustained  by  all  the  soldiers  on  the  place  and 
anything  like  disobedience  would  be  punished  severely. 
If  what  Lieutenant  Scoville  and  the  Northern  general  said 
is  true  you  will  soon  be  free  without  useless  risks  on  your 
part.  If  that  time  comes  I  want  you  and  mammy  to  stay 
with  me.  You  shall  be  as  free  as  I  am  and  I'll  give  you 
wages." 

"Dar  now,  young  mistis,  ef  I  know  I  free  I  bress  de 
Lawd  fer  de  charnce  ter  gib  my  wuk  ter  you.  Dere's  a 
po'ful  dif'unce  'twix'  bein'  took  en  kep  en  des  gibin'  yosef 
out  ob  yo'  own  heart.  Slav'y  couldn't  keep  me  fum  gibin' 
mysef  ter  de  Lawd  en  I  been  He  free  man  many  a  long 
yeah,  en  I  be  yo'  free  man,  too,  fer  lub." 

"Look  yere,  now,  honey,"  added  Aun'  Jinkey,  wiping 
her  eyes  with  her  apron,  "you  kin  bury  sogers  all  'bout  de 
cabin  ef  you  wan  ter.  Uncle  Lusthah  kyant  do  mo'  fer  you, 
iioney,  ner  me,  tookin  resks  ob  spooks.  Des  bury  dem  so- 
gers, ef  you  wanter,  right  un'er  my  win'er." 


TRUTH  IF   THE   HEAVENS    FALL  261 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

TRUTH  If   THE  HEAVENS  FALL 

IT  was  quite  natural  that  the  thoughts  of  Perkins  and 
Mr.  Baron  should  turn  toward  the  growing  crops, 
neglected  by  reason  of  events  unprecedented  in  their 
experience.  The  announcement  to  the  slaves,  first  by  Sco- 
ville  and  later  confirmed  by  General  Marston,  of  freedom, 
had  staggered  both  employer  and  overseer,  but  every  hour 
since  the  departure  of  the  raiding  Union  column  had  been 
reassuring. 

It  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  story  to  follow  the 
fortunes  of  that  force,  since  it  is  our  modest  purpose  merely 
to  dwell  on  those  events  closely  related  to  the  experiences 
of  the  Southern  girl  who  has  won  our  attention.  She  had 
suddenly  become  secondary  in  her  uncle's  thoughts.  A 
phase  of  the  war,  like  a  sudden  destructive  storm,  had  been 
witnessed;  like  a  storm,  he  hoped  that  it  and  its  effects 
would  pass  away.  The  South  was  far  from  being  subdued; 
the  issue  of  the  conflict  unknown.  He  was  the  last  man  in 
the  Confederacy  to  foresee  and  accept  new  conditions,  es- 
pecially when  he  still  believed  the  Southern  cause  would 
triumph. 

As  the  confusion  of  his  mind,  after  the  battle,  passed  he 
began  to  look  around  and  consider  what  should  be  done, 
what  could  be  saved  out  of  what  at  first  appeared  a  wreck. 
When  Dr.  Ackley  assured  him  that  the  house  and  plantation 
would  be  rapidly  abandoned  as  a  hospital,  hope  and  courage 
revived,  while  to  these  was  added  the  spur  of  necessity. 

He  knew  that  he  must  "make  his  crops,"  or  his  fortunes 


262  **MISS    LOU" 

would  be  desperate.  Eemembering  the  value  of  timely  labor 
Id  the  spring  season,  he  was  eager  on  this  second  day  after 
the  battle  to  put  his  slaves  to  work  again  at  their  interrupted 
avocations.  Accordingly  he  held  a  consultation  with  his 
nephew  and  Dr.  Ackley. 

"The  hands  are  becoming  demoralized,"  he  said,  "by 
unaccustomed  duties  and  partial  idleness.  Some  are  sullen 
and  others  distracted  by  all  kinds  of  absurd  expectations. 
Uncle  Lusthah,  the  leader  and  preacher  among  them,  even 
had  the  impudence  to  ask  Perkins  about  wages.  The 
Yankee  officers,  when  here,  told  them  they  were  free,  and 
they  wish  to  act  as  if  they  were.  The  sooner  that  notion  is 
taken  out  of  their  heads  the  better.  This  can  be  done  now 
while  my  nephew  is  here  to  enforce  authority,  better  than 
when  we  ar6  alone  again.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  certain 
number  could  be  detailed  for  regular  hospital  duty  and  the 
rest  put  to  work  as  usual." 

"I  agree  with  you,  certainly,"  replied  Surgeon  Ackley. 
"Give  me  a  dozen  men  and  half  a  dozen  women  to  wash 
and  cook,  and  I  can  get  along.  Lieutenant  Whately,  you, 
at  your  uncle's  suggestion,  can  make  the  detail  and  enforce 
discipline  among  the  rest. ' ' 

"I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  this  very  matter, 
uncle,"  said  Whately.  "My  overseer  has  been  over  and 
I  find  the  black  imps  on  our  place  are  in  much  the  same 
condition  as  yours,  a  few  venturing  to  talk  about  wages  or 
shares  in  the  crop  and  all  that  nonsense.  I  sent  him  back 
with  half  a  dozen  men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  told  him  to 
put  the  hands  at  work  as  usual.  Mother  is  going  to  ride 
over  and  spend  part  of  the  day.  I  don't  wish  her  to  be  there 
alone  just  yet,  and  1  shall  gallop  over  in  time  to  be  on  hand 
when  she  arrives.  Things  are  getting  settled,  my  arm  is  not 
so  painful,  and  it  is  time  we  pulled  ourselves  and  everything 
together.  You  struck  the  right  note  when  you  said,  'Now 
is  the  time  to  enforce  authority. '  It  must  be  done  sharply 
too,  and  these  people  taught  the  difference  between  the 
Yanks'  incendiary  talk  and  our  rights  and  positive  com- 


TRUTH   IF   THE   HEAVENS   FALL  263 

mands.  From  what  Peridns  says,  this  old  Uncle  Lusthah 
is  a  fire-brand  among  your  people.  Give  your  overseer  his 
orders  and  I'll  see  that  he  carries  them  out." 

Perkins  was  summoned,  acquainted  with  the  policy — 
just  to  his  mind — resolved  upon,  told  to  pick  out  the  detail 
for  hospital  duty  and  to  have  the  rest  ready  for  work  after 
an  early  dinner. 

"Go  right  straight  ahead,  Perkins,"  added  Whately, 
"and  let  me  know  if  one  of  these  Yankee-made  freemen 
so  much  as  growls." 

Dr.  Borden  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  take  upon  him- 
self undue  responsibility.  He  had  therefore  mentioned  to 
Surgeon  Ackley  Miss  Baron's  wish  to  give  Yarry  a  special 
burial  by  the  run  and  that  she  expected  to  be  present. 

Ackley  good-naturedly  acquiesced,  saying,  "I  suppose 
there  can  be  no  objection  to  burying  the  man  in  a  place  of 
Miss  Baron's  selection,  instead  of  the  one  designated  by 
Mr.  Baron.  It's  but  a  small  concession  to  her  who  is  so 
kindly  bent  on  making  herself  useful.  Let  her  have  her 
own  way  in  the  whole  affair. " 

The  spirit  of  Yarry's  turbulent  career  seemed  destined 
to  break  out  afresh  over  his  final  disposition.  Uncle  Lust- 
hah went  to  the  quarters  in  order  to  obtain  the  aid  of  two 
or  three  stout  hands  in  digging  the  grave.  It  so  happened 
that  his  visit  took  place  during  the  adoption  of  Mr.  Baron's 
policy  in  dealing  with  his  property  and  just  before  Perkins 
received  his  instructions.  The  negroes  not  engaged  in  labor 
relating  to  the  hospital  gathered  around  Uncle  Lusthah  in 
the  hope  of  receiving  some  advice  from  Miss  Lou.  Mourn- 
fully the  old  man  told  them  what  she  and  Aun'  Jinkey  had 
said,  adding,  "I  doan  see  no  oder  way  fer  us  des  at  dis 
time  ob  our  triberlation.  Ole  Pharo  sut'ny  got  he  grip  on 
us  agin,  he  sut'ny  hab  fer  a  spell.  But  brudren  en  sistas, 
hit  ony  lak  a  cloud  comin'  'cross  de  risin'  sun.  Let  us  des 
wait  pashently  de  times  en  seasons  ob  de  Lawd  who  alone 
kin  brung  de  true  'liverance." 

When  he  saw  the  deep,  angry  spirit  of  protest  he  threw 


264  ''MISS   LOU" 

up  his  hands,  crying,  "Wat  de  use?  I  warn  you',  I  'treat 
you,  be  keerful.  Wat  could  us  do  wid  our  bar  ban's  agin 
armed  men?  I  tells  you  we  mus^  wait  or  die  lak  Moses  'fo' 
we  enter  de  promis  Ian'."  Then  he  told  them  about  Yarry 
and  asked  for  two  or  three  to  volunteer  to  dig  the  grave. 

A  score  stepped  forward  and  nearly  all  expressed  their 
purpose  to  attend  the  funeral.  The  old  man  persuaded  all 
but  three  to  remain  near  the  quarters  at  present,  saying, 
"So  many  gwine  wid  me  mout  mek  trouble,  fer  Perkins 
look  ugly  dis  mawnin'." 

"We  ugly  too,"  muttered  more  than  one  voice,  but  they 
yielded  to  Uncle  Lusthah's  caution. 

In  going  to  the  run  Uncle  Lusthah  and  his  assistants 
had  to  pass  somewhat  near  the  house,  and  so  were  inter- 
cepted by  Perkins  and  Whately,  both  eager  to  employ  at 
once  the  tactics  resolved  upon. 

"Where  the  devil  are  you  goin'  with  those  men  and 
shovels?"  shouted  Perkins. 

"  We  gwine  ter  dig  a  grabe  fer  a  Linkum  soger  down  by 
de  run,"  replied  Uncle  Lusthah  quietly. 

"That  ain't  the  place  ter  plant  the  Yanks,  you  old  fool. 
Go  back  to  the  quarters.  No  words.  Lef tenant  Whately 
will  detail  the  hands  fer  sech  work.  Back  with  you.  Why 
in don't  you  mind  ?" 

"I  hab  my  orders  fum — " 

"Silence!"  thundered  Whately.  "Obey,  or  you'll  go 
back  at  the  point  of  the  sabre." 

Uncle  Lusthah  and  his  companions  still  hesitated,  for 
they  saw  Miss  Lou  running  toward  them.  She  had  lingered 
to  talk  with  Aun'  Jinkey  and  was  returning  when  she  heard 
Perkins'  high,  harsh  words.  The  overseer  was  in  a  rage, 
and  limped  hastily  forward  with  uplifted  cane,  when  he  was 
suddenly  confronted  by  the  hot  face  and  flashing  eyes  of 
Miss  Lou. 

"Don't  you  dare  strike  Uncle  Lasthah,"  she  said  sternly. 

Her  appearance  and  attitude  evoked  all  the  pent-up  hate 
and  passion  in  the  man's  nature  and  he  shouted,  "By  the 


TRUTH   IF   THE   HEAVENS   FALL  265 

'tarnal,  I  will  strike  'im.  I've  got  my  orders  en  I'll  find 
out  yere  en  now  whether  a  traitor  girl  or  a  Southern  officer 
rules  this  place." 

Before  the  blow  could  descend  she  sprang  forward,  seized 
his  wrist  and  stayed  his  hand. 

"Wretch!  murderer!  coward!"  she  cried. 

"Oh,  come.  Cousin  Lou,  this  won't  do  at  all,"  began 
Whately,  hastening  up. 

An  ominous  rush  and  trampling  of  feet  was  heard  and 
an  instant  later  the  negroes  were  seen  running  toward  them 
from  the  quarters  and  all  points  at  which  the  sounds  of  the 
altercation  reached  them. 

"Turn  out  the  guard,"  shouted  Whately.  "Rally  the 
men  herewith  carbines  and  ball-cartridges."  He  whirled 
Perkins  aside,  saying,  "Get  out  of  the  way,  you  fool." 
Then  he  drew  his  sabre  and  thundered  to  the  negroes, 
"Back,  for  your  lives!" 

They  hesitated  and  drew  together.  Miss  Lou  went  di- 
rectly toward  them  and  implored,  "Go  back.  Go  back. 
Do  what  I  ask  and  perhaps  I  can  help  you.  If  you  don't, 
no  one  can  or  will  help  you.     See,  the  soldiers  are  coming." 

"We'll  'bey  you,  young  mistis,"  said  Uncle  Lusthah, 
"but  we  uns  lak  ter  hab  'splained  des  what  we  got  ter 
'spect.  We  kyant  die  but  oncet,  en  ef  we  kyant  eben  bury 
de  sogers  dat  die  fer  us — " 

"Silence!"  shouted  Whately.  "Forward  here,  my  men. 
Form  line!  Advance!  Shoot  the  first  one  that  resists." 
He  then  dashed  forward,  sought  to  encircle  his  cousin  with 
his  arm  and  draw  her  out  of  the  way. 

She  eluded  him  and  turned  swiftly  toward  the  advancing 
line  of  men,  crying,  "Stop,  if  there  is  a  drop  of  Southern 
blood  in  your  veins."  They  halted  and  stared  at  her.  She 
resumed,  "You  will  have  to  walk  over  me  before  you  touch 
these  poor  creatures.  Uncle"  (for  Mr.  Baron  now  stood 
aghast  on  the  scene),  "as  you  are  a  man,  come  herewith 
me  and  speak,  explain  to  your  people.  That  is  all  they 
ask.     They  have  been  told  that  they  were  free,  and  now 

Roe— IX— L 


266      ^  ''MISS   LOU" 

the  oldest  and  best  among  them,  who  was  doing  my  bid- 
ding, almost  suffered  brutal  violence  from  a  man  not  fit  to 
live.  Where  is  the  justice,  right,  or  sense  in  such  a  course  ? 
Tell  your  people  what  you  wish,  what  you  expect,  and  that 
they  will  be  treated  kindly  in  obeying  you." 

She  recognized  that  every  moment  gained  gave  time  for 
cooler  thoughts  and  better  counsels,  also  for  the  restraining 
presence  of  others  who  were  gathering  upon  the  scene.  It 
was  in  the  nature  of  her  headlong  cousin  to  precipitate 
trouble  without  thought  of  the  consequences;  but  as  she 
spoke  she  saw  Surgeons  Ackley  and  Borden  running  for- 
ward. Captain  Maynard  was  already  at  her  side,  and 
Whately  looked  as  if  he  could  cut  his  rival  down  with  the 
weapon  in  his  hand.  While  Mr.  Baron  hesitated  Mrs. 
Whately  also  reached  her  niece  and  urged,  "Brother,  I 
adjure  you,  go  and  speak  to  your  people.  They  are  your 
people  and  you  should  tell  them  what  to  expect  before  you 
begin  to  punish.  Go  with  Surgeon  Ackley  and  settle  this 
question  once  for  all. " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Baron,"  said  Ackley  sternly,  "we  must  settle 
this  question  promptly.  Such  uproar  and  excitement  are 
bad  for  my  patients  and  not  to  be  permitted  for  an  instant." 

It  was  evident  that  the  surgeon  was  terribly  angry.  He 
had  been  brought  up  in  the  old  regular  army,  and  anything 
like  insubordination  or  injury  to  his  patients  were  things  he 
could  not  tolerate.  Mr.  Baron  went  forward  with  him  and 
said  in  a  low  tone*. 

' '  You  are  virtually  in  command  here  and  all  know  it. 
A  few  words  from  you  will  have  more  effect  than  anything 
I  can  say." 

"Very  well,  then,"  responded  the  resolute  surgeon,  and 
he  strode  toward  the  negroes,  not  noticing  that  Miss  Lou 
kept  almost  at  his  side. 

"Look  here,  you  people,"  he  began  harshly,  "do  you 
think  I  will  permit  such  disturbances  ?  They  may  be  the 
death  of  brave  men.  Quit  your  nonsense  at  once.  You  are 
simply   what  you've   always   been.     Yankee  words   don't 


TRUTH   IF   THE   HEAVENS   FALL  267 

make  you  free  any  more  than  they  make  us  throw  down 
oar  arms.  What  happened  to  the  general  who  said  you 
were  free  ?  We  fought  him  and  drove  him  away.  There 
is  only  one  thing  you  can  do  and  must  do — go  to  work  as 
before,  and  woe  be  to  those  who  make  trouble.  That's 
all." 

"No,"  cried  Miss  Lou,  "that  surely  cannot  be  all." 

"Miss  Baron!     What  can  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean  that  these  poor  creatures  are  looking  to  me, 
trusting  in  me,  and  I  have  promised  to  intercede  in  their 
behalf.  Tell  them  at  least  this,  you  or  uncle,  that  if  they 
obey  and  work  quietly  and  faithfully  they  shall  not  be 
treated  harshly,  nor  subjected  to  the  brutal  spite  of  that 
overseer,   Perkins. " 

"Truly,  Miss  Baron,  you  can  scarcely  expect  me  to 
interfere  with  your  uncle's  management  of  his  property. 
The  only  thing  I  can  and  will  do  is  to  insist  on  absolute 
quiet  and  order  on  the  place.  In  this  case  every  one  must 
obey  the  surgeon-in- charge.  Do  you  understand  that?"  he 
concluded,  turning  to  the  negroes.  "Neither  you  nor  any 
one  else  can  do  anything  to  injure  my  patients.  As  you 
value  your  lives,  keep  quiet.  I  will  not  permit  even  a 
harsh,  disturbing  sound.  Do  not  dare  to  presume  on  Miss 
Baron's  kindness,  mistaken  in  this  crisis.  This  unruly, 
reckless  spirit  must  be  stamped  out  now.  Your  owner  and 
master  will  tell  you  what  he  expects,  and  I  will  have  the 
first  man  who  disobeys  shot.  Miss  Baron,  you  must  come 
with  me." 

' '  Yes,  sir,  but  not  until  I  have  spoken  the  truth  about 
this  affair.  All  your  power,  Dr.  Ackley,  cannot  keep  me 
dumb  when  I  see  such  injustice.  You  are  threatening  and 
condemning  without  having  heard  a  word  of  explanation. 
Uncle  Lust  hah  and  those  with  him  were  simply  doing  my 
bidding.  Can  you  think  I  would  stand  by  and  see  him 
cursed  and  beaten?  These  people  have  not  shown  any 
unruly,  reckless  spirit.  They  may  well  be  bewildered,  and 
they  only  asked  what  they  must  expect.    God  is  my  witness, 


268  '*MISS   LOU" 

I  will  cry  out  'Shame!'  with  my  last  breath  if  they  are 
treated  brutally.  They  will  be  quiet,  they  will  do  their 
duty  if  treated  kindly.  They  shall  not  appeal  to  me  for 
justice  and  mercy  in  vain.  My  words  may  not  help  them, 
but  I  shall  not  stand  tamely  by  like  a  coward,  but  will  call 
any  man  on  earth  coward  who  butchers  one  of  these  un- 
armed negroes." 

She  stood  before  them  all  possessed  by  one  thought — 
justice.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  but  stern,  undaunted  and 
noble  in  its  expression.  She  was  enabled  to  take  her  course 
from  the  courage,  simplicity  and  unconventionality  of  her 
nature,  becoming  utterly  absorbed  by  her  impulse  to  defend 
those  who  looked  to  her,  neither  regarding  nor  fearing,  in 
her  strong  excitement,  the  consequences  to  herself. 

Dr.  Borden  was  hastening  forward  to  remind  Ackley  of 
his  promise  concerning  Yarry's  grave,  and  to  show  the  girl 
that  he  at  least  would  stand  with  her;  but  his  chief  waved 
him  back.  The  old  surgeon  of  the  regular  army  could  ap- 
preciate courage,  and  the  girl's  words^  and  aspect  pierced 
the  thick  crust  of  his  military  and  professional  armor, 
touching  to  the  quick  the  man  within  him.  He  saw  in  the 
brave  young  face  defiance  of  him,  of  the  whole  world,  in 
her  sense  of  right,  and  he  had  the  innate  nobility  of  soul  to 
respect  her  motive  and  acknowledge  the  justice  of  her 
action.  Watching  her  attentively  until  she  was  through 
speaking  he  took  off  his  hat,  stepped  forward  and  gave  her 
his  hand. 

"You  are  a  brave  girl,"  he  said  frankly.  "You  are 
doing  what  you  think  is  right  and  I  am  proud  of  you.  Tell 
these  people  yourself  to  go  .back  to  their  quarters,  behave 
themselves  and  obey  their  rightful  master.  After  your 
words  in  their  behalf  any  one  who  does  not  obey  deserves 
to  be  shot." 

She  was  disarmed  and  subdued  at  once.  "Ah,  doctor," 
she  faltered,  tears  in  her  eye3,  "now  you've  conquered 
me."  Then  turning  toward  the  negroes  she  cried,  "Do  just 
as  Dr.  Ackley  has  said     Go  quietly  to  work  and  be  patient. 


TRUTH  IF   THE   HEAVENS   FALL  269 

Uncle  Lusttiah,  you  know  I  told  jou  to  do  so  before  all  this 
happened.  I  tell  jou  so  again  and  shall  expect  you  to  use 
all  your  influence  to  keep  perfect  order." 

*'We  *bey  you,  young  mistis;  we  tank  you  fer  speakin' 
up  fer  us,  ^'  and  the  old  man  led  the  way  toward  the  quar- 
ters, followed  by  all  his  flock. 

Dr.  Ackley  gave  his  arm  to  the  girl  and  led  her  to  the 
house.  Captain  Maynard  took  off  his  hat  in  a  very  defer- 
ential manner  as  she  passed;  she  walked  on  unheeding  the 
salutation.  Whately  frowned  at  him  and  dropped  his  hand 
on  the  hilt  of  his  sabre.  At  this  pantomime  Maynard 
smiled  contemptuously  as  he  walked  away.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments the  scene  was  as  quiet  and  deserted  as  it  had  been 
crowded  and  threatening. 

On  the  way  to  the  house  Miss  Lou  explained  more  fully 
the  circumstances  relating  to  the  dead  soldier,  Yarry,  and 
Ackley  said  good-naturedly,  *'I'll  have  Uncle  Lusthah 
and  two  others  detailed  to  dig  the  grave  and  you  can  carry 
out  your  intentions;  but.  Miss  Baron,  you  must  be  careful 
in  the  future  how  you  let  your  inexperience  and  enthusiasm 
involve  you  in  conflict  with  all  recognized  authority.  We 
are  safely  out  of  this  scrape;  I  can't  answer  for  anything 
more." 

"Believe  me,"  she  said  earnestly,  *'I  don't  wish  to  make 
trouble  of  any  kind,  and  after  your  course  toward  me,  I  will 
seek  to  carry  out  your  orders  in  every  way.  If  I  dared  I 
would  ask  one  favor.  Uncle  Lusthah  is  too  old  to  work 
in  the  field  and  he  is  a  kind,  good  old  man.  If  you  would 
have  him  detailed  to  wait  on  the  wounded — " 

'*Yes,  yes,  I  will.  You  are  a  brave,  good-hearted  girl 
and  mean  well.  I  shall  rely  on  your  promise  to  work  cor- 
dially with  me  hereafter.  Now  go  to  your  room  and  get 
calm  and  rested.  You  are  trembling  like  a  frightened  bird. 
I'll  see  your  uncle,  cousin  and  Dr.  Borden.  You  shall  bury 
your  chivalrous  Yank  just  as  you  wish.  Then  all  must  go 
according  to  regulations." 

She  smiled  as  she  gave  him  her  hand,  saying,  "You  may 


270  "MISS   LOU" 

put  me  under  arrest  if  I  don't  mind  you  in  everything 
hereafter.'* 

"Well,"  muttered  the  surgeon,  as  he  looked  after  her, 
*'to  think  that  a  girl  should  have  a  probe  long  and  sharp 
enough  to  go  straight  to  the  heart  of  a  man  of  my  age!  No 
wonder  Maynard  and  Whately  are  over  head  and  ears." 


'ANGEL    OF   DEATH"  271 


% 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


IT  would  seem  as  if  the  brief  tempest  of  the  morning  had 
cleared  the  air.  Two  strong  natures  had  asserted  them- 
selves. Surgeon  Ackley's  recognition  of  Miss  Lou's 
spirit  and  the  justice  of  her  plea  turned  out  to  be  as  politic 
as  it  was  sincere  and  unpremeditated.  The  slaves  learned 
all  they  could  hope  from  her  or  any  one  now  in  authority 
and  were  compelled  to  see  the  necessity  of  submission. 
Whately  was  taught  another  lesson  concerning  the  beauties 
of  headlong  action,  while  even  his  egotism  was  not  proof 
against  the  feeling  that  his  cousin's  straightforward  fearless- 
ness would  baffle  all  measures  opposed  to  her  sense  of  right 
As  for  Perkins,  he  began  to  fear  as  well  as  hate  her,  seeing 
her  triumph  again.  The  only  reward  of  his  zeal  had  been 
Whately' s  words,  "Get  out  of  the  way,  you  fool."  There- 
after, with  the  exception  of  the  girl's  scathing  words,  he 
had  been  ignored.  He  had  been  made  to  feel  that  Ackley's 
threats  had  a  meaning  for  him  as  well  as  for  the  negroes, 
and  that  if  he  needlessly  provoked  trouble  again  he  would 
be  confronted  with  the  stern  old  army  surgeon.  Having 
known  Whately  from  a  boy  he  stood  in  little  fear  of  him, 
but  was  convinced  that  he  could  not  trifle  with  Ackley's 
patience  an  instant.  He  now  recognized  his  danger.  In  his 
rage  he  had  forgotten  the  wide  difference  in  rank  between 
the  girl  he  would  injure  and  himself.  The  courtesy  promptly 
shown  to  her  by  Maynard  and  especially  by  the  surgeon- in- 
chief  taught  him  that  one  whom  he  had  scarcely  noticed  as 
she  grew  up  a  repressed,  brooding  child  and  girl,  possessed 
by  birth  the  consideration  ever  shown  to  a  Southern  lady. 


272  *'Miss  LOU" 

He  knew  what  that  meant,  even  if  he  could  not  appre- 
ciate her  conduct.  Maynard  had  scowled  upon  him;  Mrs. 
Whately  bestowed  merely  a  glance  of  cold  contempt,  while 
her  son  had  failed  him  utterly  as  an  ally.  He  therefore 
sullenly  drove  his  malice  back  into  his  heart  with  the  feel- 
ing that  he  must  now  bide  his  time.  ^ 

Even  Mr.  Baron  was  curt  and  said  briefly  before  he  left 
the  ground,  "Be  sure  you're  right  before  you  go  ahead. 
Hereafter  give  your  orders  quietly  and  let  me  know  who 
disobeys." 

The  old  planter  was  at  his  wit's  end  about  his  niece,  but 
even  he  was  compelled  to  see  that  his  former  methods  with 
her  would  not  answer.  New  ideas  were  being  forced  upon 
him  as  if  by  surgical  operations.  Chief  among  them  was 
the  truth  that  she  could  no  longer  be  managed  or  restrained 
by  fear  or  mere  authority  on  the  part  of  any  one.  He  would 
look  at  her  in  a  sort  of  speechless  wonder  and  ask  himself 
if  she  were  the  child  to  whom  he  had  supposed  himself  in- 
fallible so  many  years.  His  wife  kept  on  the  even  tenor 
of  her  way  more  unswervingly  than  any  one  on  the  place. 
She  was  as  incapable  of  Dr.  Ackley's  fine  sentiment  as  she 
was  of  her  nephew's  ungovernable  passion.  She  neither 
hoped  nor  tried  to  comprehend  the  "perversity"  of  her 
niece,  yet,  in  the  perplexed  conditions  of  the  time,  she 
filled  a  most  important  and  useful  niche.  Since  the 
wounded  men  were  to  be  fed,  she  became  an  admirable 
commissary  general,  preventing  waste  and  exacting  good 
wholesome  cookery  on  the  part  of  Aun'  Suke  and  her 
assistants. 

Poor  Yarry  was  buried  quietly  ai:  last,  Miss  Lou,  with 
Dr.  Borden,  Captain  Hanfield  and  two  or  three  of  his  com- 
rades standing  reverently  by  the  grave  while  Uncle  Lusthah 
offered  his  simple  prayer.  Then  the  girl  threw  upon  the 
mound  some  flowers  she  had  gathered  and  returned  to  her 
duties  as  nurse.  The  remains  of  the  old  Confederate  colonel 
were  sent  to  his  family,  with  the  letter  which  Miss  Lou  had 
written  for  him.     Every  day  the  numbers  in  the  hospital 


''ANGEL   OF  DEATH''  273 

diminished,  either  by  death  or  by  removal  of  the  stronger 
patients  to  the  distant  railroad  town.  Those  sent  away  in 
ambulances  and  other  vehicles  impressed  into  the  service 
were  looked  after  by  Surgeon  Ackley  with  official  thorough- 
ness and  phlegm;  in  much  the  same  spirit  and  manner  Dr. 
Williams  presided  over  the  departure  of  others  to  the  bourne 
from  which  none  return,  then  buried  them  with  all  proper 
observance.  Uncle  Lusthah  carried  around  by  a  sort  of 
stealth  his  pearl  of  simple,  vital,  hope-inspiring  faith,  and 
he  found  more  than  one  ready  to  give  their  all  for  it.  The 
old  man  pointed  directly  to  Him  who  "taketh  away  the  sin 
of  the  world,"  then  stood  aside  that  dying  eyes  might  look. 
With  the  best  intentions  Dr.  Williams,  with  his  religious 
formulas,  got  directly  in  the  way,  bewildering  weak  minds 
with  a  creed. 

Mrs.  Whately  and  her  son  went  and  came  from  their 
plantation  and  were  troubled  over  the  condition  of  things 
there.  The  slaves  were  in  a  state  of  sullen,  smouldering 
rebellion  and  several  of  them  had  disappeared.  "I  fear 
Madison  has  been  too  arbitrary,"  she  admitted  to  her 
brother. 

Mr.  Baron  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smoked  in  si- 
lence. Perhaps  his  preposterous  niece  had  not  been  so 
crazy  after  all. 

Between  Maynard  and  Whately  there  were  increasing 
evidences  of  trouble,  which  the  mother  of  the  latter  did 
her  best  to  avert  by  remonstrances  and  entreaty.  On  one 
occasion  Whately  had  said  a  little  irritably,  "1  say.  Dr. 
Ackley,  what's  the  use  of  Maynard's  hanging  around  here? 
He  is  alnlost  well  enough  for  duty." 

*'It  is  chiefly  out  of  consideration  for  you  that  I  am 
keeping  him,"  replied  the  surgeon  gravely,  in  well-con- 
cealed mischief.  "It  is  clear  that  he  has  entered  the  lists 
with  you  for  your  cousin's  hand,  and  I  could  not  further  his 
suit  better  than  by  sending  him  away,  especially  if  it  were 
suspected  that  I  did  so  at  your  instigation.  He  is  doing 
well  here,  good-naturedly  helps  me  in  my  writing  and  can 


274  **MISS   LOW 

soon  go  direct  to  his  regiment.  It  seems  to  me  that  your 
cousin  holds  a  pretty  even  balance  between  you,  and  all  a 
man  should  want  is  a  fair  field. ' ' 

Whately  walked  frowningly  away,  more  than  ever  con- 
vinced that  the  surgeon  was  too  good  a  friend  of  his  rival 
to  interfere. 

At  the  close  of  the  fourth  day  after  the  battle  there  was 
an  arrival  at  The  Oaks  that  greatly  interested  Miss  Lou — a 
stately,  white-haired  old  lady, .  the  mother  of  Lieutenant 
Waldo.  She  was  very  pale  and  it  would  have  been  hard 
for  Surgeon  Ackley  to  meet  her  agonized  look,  her  shrink- 
ing as  if  from  a  blow,  were  he  unable  to  hold  out  any  hope. 

"Mrs.  Waldo,"  he  said  gravely,  "your  son  is  living  and 
there's  a  chance  of  his  getting  well.  His  cheerfulness  and 
absolute  quiet  of  mind  may  save  him.  If  he  had  fretted  or 
desponded  he  would  have  died  before  this." 

"Yes,"  replied  his  mother  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief, 
"I  know." 

"Miss  Baron,  will  you  kindly  prepare  Waldo  for  his 
mother's  visit?  Meanwhile,  1  will  tell  her  a  little  about 
his  case  and  our  management  of  it.  He  doesn't  know  that 
1  sent  for  you,  for  I  was  not  sure  you  could  come." 

"Is  this  Miss  Baron  and  one  of  my  son's  nurses  ?" 

"Yes,  and  doing  more  for  him  than  I — giving  him  all 
the  bovine  nectar  and  honeyed  words  he  can  take. ' ' 

"God  bless  you,  my  dear.     Please  let  me  kiss  you." 

When  Miss  Lou  entered  Waldo's  tent  he  whispered  with 
a  laugh,  "It's  four  hours  since  you  were  here." 

"No,  scarcely  two. " 

"Well,  I'm  as  hungry  as  if  it  were  four  houri^'* 

"That's  fine.*  You're  getting  right  well.  Will  you  be 
very  good  and  quiet — not  a  bit  excited,  if  I  let  some  one 
else  bring  you  your  supper?" 

She  beamed  upon  him  so  joyously  that  he  exclaimed 
aloud,  with  a  rush  of  tears,  "Ah!  mother?" 

The  girl  nodded  and  said,  "Now  remember,  don't  break 
her  heart  by  being  worse. ' ' 


''ANGEL    OF   DEATH''  275 

"Oh,  how  sweet  and  lovely  of  her!  Til  get  well  now, 
sure." 

"That's  a  nice  way  to  treat  your  old  nurse." 

Smilingly  he  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  "You  are  al- 
most as  pretty  and  good  as  she  is,  but  you  aren't  mother." 
Then  he  added  in  strong  sympathy,  "Forgive  me.  You 
haven't  any,  have  you  ?  You  don't  know  about  this  mother 
love." 

"I  know  enough  about  it  to  have  the  heartache  for  its 
lack.  Now  you  must  save  your  strength  till  she  comes. 
Good- by." 

From  that  hour  he  steadily  gained,  banishing  the  look 
of  anxiety  from  his  mother's  face.  Mrs.  Whately  sighed 
as  she  saw  how  her  niece's  heart  warmed  toward  the  stran- 
ger, and  how  strong  an  attachment  was  growing  between 
them.  "Louise  is  drifting  away  from  us  all,"  she  thought, 
"yet  I  cannot  see  that  she  encourages  Captain  May- 
nard. ' ' 

A  genuine  friendship  had  also  grown  between  the  girl 
and  Captain  Hanfield,  the  Federal  officer,  and  she  was 
heartily  sorry  when  he  told  her  that  he  would  be  sent  to 
the  railroad  town  the  next  day.  "My  wound  isn't  doing 
well  and  I  seem  to  be  running  down,"  he  explained.  "Dr. 
Borden  has  been  able  to  keep  me  thus  far,  but  I  must  go 
to-morrow.  Perhaps  it's  best.  He  is  trying  to  get  me 
paroled.  If  I  could  only  get  home  to  my  wife  and  children 
I'd  rally  fast  enough.  I'm  all  run  down  and  this  climate 
is  enervating  to  me." 

She  tried  to  hearten  him  by  kind,  hopeful  words,  and 
he  listened  to  her  with  a  wistful  look  on  his  handsome  face. 
' ' How  I'd  like  you  to  meet  my  little  girl !' '  he  said.  "  Won' t 
I  make  her  blue  eyes  open  when  I  tell  her  about  you!" 

Another  bond  of  union  between  them  was  the  captain's 
acquaintance  with  Scoville,  and  he  soon  observed  that  she 
listened  very  patiently  and  attentively  when  he  spoke  of  the 
brave  scout's  exploits.  "I  declare,"  he  had  said,  laughing, 
"I  keep  forgetting  that  you  are  a  Southern  girl  and  that 


276  ''MISS   LOW'    , 

you  may  not  enjoy  hearing  of  the  successes  of  so  active  an 
enemy." 

"Lieutenant  Scoville  is  not  a  personal  enemy,"  she  had 
replied  guardedly.  "He  showed  us  all  very  great  kind- 
ness, me  especially.  1  wish  that  both  you  and  he  were  on 
our  side." 

"Well,  as  you  say  down  here,  I  reckon  we  are  on  your 
side  any  way,"  had  been  the  captain's  smiling  reply. 

She  spoke  to  Surgeon  Ackley  promptly  about  the  pros- 
pects of  a  parole,  but  he  said,  "Impossible,  Miss  Baron. 
The  question  would  at  once  arise,  'If  granted  to  Hanfield, 
why  not  to  others?'  I  reckon  Borden  has  been  trying  to 
rally  his  friend  by  hopes  even  when  knowing  them  baseless." 

This  proved  to  be  the  case,  and  the  following  day  brought 
the  young  girl  a  strange  and  very  sad  experience.  Dr.  Bor- 
den appeared  at  breakfast  looking  troubled  and  perplexed. 
Miss  Lou  immediately  inquired  about  the  captain.  The 
doctor  shook  his  head  saying,  "He  isn't  so  well.  I'd  like 
to  speak  with  you  by  and  by." 

She  was  so  depressed  by  the  surgeon's  aspect  that  she 
paid  little  heed  to  the  conversation  of  her  two  admirers  and 
soon  left  the  table.  Borden  followed  her,  and  when  they 
were  alone  began  sadly,  "Miss  Baron,  perhaps  I  am  going 
to  ask  of  you  far  too  much,  but  you  have  shown  yourself 
to  be  an  tinusually  brave  girl  as  well  as  a  kind-hearted  one. 
Hanfield  is  an  old  friend  of  mine  and  perhaps  I've  done 
wrong  to  mislead  him.  But  I  didn't  and  couldn't  foresee 
what  has  happened,  and  I  did  hope  to  start  him  in  genuine 
convalescence,  feeling  sure -that  if  he  got  well  he  would  give 
up  the  hope  of  going  home  as  a  matter  of  course.  So  far 
from  succeeding,  a  fatal  disease  has  set  in— tetanus,  lock- 
jaw. He's  dying  and  doesn't  know  it.  I  can't  tell  him. 
I've  made  the  truth  doubly  cruel,  for  I've  raised  false 
hopes.  He  continually  talks  of  home  and  his  pleading  eyes 
stab  me.  You  can  soften  the  blow  to  him,  soothe  and  sus- 
tain him  in  meeting  what  is  sure  to  come." 

"Oh,  is  there  no  hope?" 


''ANQEL    OF  DEATH''  277 

"None  at  all.  He  can't  live.  If  you  feel  that  the  ordeal 
would  be  too  painful — I  wouldn't  ask  it  if  I  hadn't  seen  in 
you  unexpected  qualities." 

"Oh,  I  must  help  him  bear  it;  yet  how  can  I?  how 
shall  I?" 

"Well,  I  guess  your  heart  and  sympathy  will  guide  you. 
I  can't.  1  can  only  say  you  had  better  tell  him  the  whole 
truth.  He  ought  to  know  it  for  his  own  and  family's  sake 
now,  while  perfectly  rational.  Soften  the  truth  as  you  can, 
but  you  can't  injure  him  by  telling  it  plainly,  for  he  will 
die.  God  knows,  were  it  my  case,  the  tidings  wouldn't 
seem  so  very  terrible  if  told  by  a  girl  like  you." 

"Oh,  but  the  tidings  are  so  terrible  to  speak,  especially 
to  such  a  man.  Think  of  his  beautiful  wife  and  daughter, 
of  his  never  seeing  them  again.  Oh,  it's  just  awful,"  and 
her  face  grew  white  at  the  prospect. 

"Yes,  Miss  Baron,  it  is.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  blood 
and  carnage  of  the  war,  every  now  and  then  a  case  comes 
up  which  makes  even  my  calloused  heart  admit,  'It's  just 
awful.'  I'm  only  seeking  to  make  it  less  awful  to  my  poor 
friend,  and  perhaps  at  too  great  cost  to  you." 

"Well,  he  on  his  side,  and  others  on  ours,  didn't  count 
the  cost;  neither  must  I.  I  must  not  think  about  it  or  my 
heart  will  fail  me.     I  will  go  at  once." 

"Come  then,  and  God  help  you  and  him." 

A  straw- bed  had  been  made  up  in  a  large,  airy  box-stall 
where  the  captain  could  be  by  himself.  Uncle  Lusthah  was 
in  attendance  and  he  had  just  brought  a  bowl  of  milk. 

Borden  had  left  Miss  Lou  to  enter  alone.  The  captain 
held  out  his  hand  and  said  cheerfully,  "Well,  it's  an  ill 
wind  that  blows  nowhere.  This  one  will  blow  me  home 
all  the  sooner  I  trust,  for  it  must  be  plainer  now  than  ever 
that  I  need  the  home  change  which  will  put  me  on  my  feet 
again.  You  needn't  look  so  serious,  I  feel  only  a  little 
more  poorly  than  1  did — sore  throat  and  a  queer  kind  of 
stiffness  in  my  jaws  as  if  I  had  taken  cold  in  them." 

"Do  I  look  very  serious?"  she  faltered. 


278  ''MISS   LOU'' 

"Yes,  you  look  as  if  troubled  about  something.  But 
there,  see  what  an  egotistic  fellow  I  am!  As  if  you  hadn't 
troubles  of  your  own!  pretty  deep  ones,  too,  I  fear.  Our 
coming  here  has  given  you  a  wonderful  experience,  Miss 
Baron.  No  matter;  you've  met  it  like  a  soldier  and  will 
have  much  to  remember  in  after  years.  You  can  never  be- 
come a  commonplace  woman  now  and  there  are  such  a  lot 
of  'em  in  the  world.  When  I  remember  all  you  have  done 
for  us  it  makes  me  ill  to  think  of  some  in  our  town — gig- 
gling, silly  little  flirts,  with  no  higher  ambition  than  to  strut 
down  the  street  in  a  new  dress. ' ' 

"Oh,  don't  think  of  them  or  over-praise  me.  Perhaps  if 
they  had  been  here  and  compelled  to  face  things  they  would 
have  done  better  than  I.  A  short  time  ago  I  didn't  dream 
of  these  experiences,  and  then  I  would  have  said  1  couldn't 
possibly  endure  them. ' ' 

"Well,  you  have,"  resumed  the  captain,  who  was  slightly 
feverish,  excited  and  inclined  to  talk.  "One  of  my  dearest 
hopes  now  is  to  get  back  to  my  little  girl  soon  and  deepen 
her  mind  by  making  her  ashamed  of  the  silly  things  in  a 
girl's  life.  Of  course  I  wish  her  to  be  joyous  and  happy 
as  a  young  thing  should  be,  as  I  think  you  would  be  if  yoa 
had  the  chance.  By  means  of  your  story  I  can  make  her 
ashamed  ever  to  indulge  in  .those  picayune,  contemptible 
feminine  traits  which  exasperate  men.  I  want  her  to  be 
brave,  helpful,  sincere,  like  you,  like  her  mother.  How 
quickly  poor  Yarry  recognized  the  spirit  in  which  you  came 
among  us  at  first!  Jove!  I  didn't  think  him  capable  of 
such  feeling.  I  tell  you.  Miss  Baron,  the  roughest  of  us 
reverence  an  unselfish  woman — one  who  doesn't  think 
of  herself  first  and  always.  She  mayn't  be  a  saint,  but 
if  she  has  heart  enough  for  sympathy  and  is  brave  and 
simple  enough  to  bestow  it  just  as  a  cool  spring  gushes  from 
the  ground,  we  feel  she  is  the  woman  God  meant  her  to  be. 
Ah,  uncle,  that  reminds  me — another  cup  of  that  cold 
water.    For  some  reason  I'm  awfully  thirsty  this  morning." 

Miss  Lou  listened  with  hands  nervously  clasping  and 


''ANGEL   OF  DEATH"  279 

unclasping,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  tell  the  man, 
dreaming  of  home  and  planning  for  the  future,  that  he  must 
soon  sleep  beside  poor  Yarrj.  She  had  already  taken  to 
herself  the  mournful  comfort  that  his  grave  also  should  be 
where  she  could  care  for  it  and  keep  it  green. 

'*I  wish  to  tell  you  more  about  my  little  Sadie  and  my 
wife.  Some  day,  when  this  miserable  war  is  over,  you  will 
visit  us.  We'  11  give  you  a  reception  then  which  may  turn 
even  your  head.  Ha!  ha!  you  thought  we'd  be  worse  than 
Indians.  Well,  I'll  show  you  a  lot  of  our  squaws  in  full 
evening  dress  and  you'll  own  that  my  wife  is  the  prettiest 
in  the  tribe.  Every  day,  until  we  started  on  this  blasted 
raid,  I  received  a  letter  from  her.  I  knew  about  as  well 
what  was  going  on  at  home  as  if  there.  With  my  wife  it 
was  iove  almost  at  first  sight,  but  I  can  tell  you  that  it' s 
not  'out  of  sight  out  of  mind'  with  us.  Time  merely  adds 
to  the  pure,  bright  flame,  and  such  a  pair  of  lovers  as  we 
shall  be  when  gray  as  badgers  will  be  worth  a  journey 
to  you. ' ' 

Miss  Lou  could  maintain  her  self-control  no  longer.  She 
burst  into  tears  and  sobbed  helplessly. 

"You  poor  little  girl,"  exclaimed  the  captain  in  deep 
commiseration.  "Here  I've  been  talking  like  a  garrulous 
fool  when  your  heart  is  burdened  with  some  trouble  that 
perhaps  you  would  like  to  speak  to  me  about.  Tell  me,  my 
child,  just  as  little  Sadie  would. ' ' 

"My  heart  is  burdened  with  trouble,  captain;  it  feels  as 
if  it  would  break  when  I  hear  you  talk  so.  Would  to  God 
little  Sadie  were  here,  and  your  beautiful  wife  too!  Oh, 
what  shall  I  say?      How  can  I,  how  can  I?" 

"Miss  Baron!"  he  exclaimed,  looking  at  her  in  vague 
alarm. 

"Oh,  Captain  Hanfield,  you  are  a  brave,  unselfish  man 
like  Yarry.  Don't  make  it  too  hard  for  me.  Oh,  I  feel  as 
if  I  could  scarcely  breathe. ' ' 

As  he  saw  her  almost  panting  at  his  side  and  tears 
streaming  from  her  eyes,  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon 


280  ''MISS   LOU" 

him.  He  looked  at  her  steadily  and  silently  for  a  moment, 
then  reached  out  his  hand  as  he  said  in  an  awed  whisper, 
"Is  it  on  account  of  me  ?     Did  Borden  send  you  here?" 

She  took  his  hand,  bowed  her  forehead  upon  it  and  wept 
speechlessly. 

She  felt  it  tremble  for  a  moment,  then  it  was  withdrawn 
and  placed  on  her  bowed  head.  "So  you  are  the  angel  of 
death  to  me?"  the  officer  faltered. 

Her  tears  were  her  only,  yet  sufficient  answer.  Both 
were  silent,  she  not  having  the  heart  to  look  at  him. 

At  last  he  said  in  deep  tones,  "I  wasn't  expecting  this. 
It  will  make  a  great  change  in" — and  then  he  was  silent 
again. 

She  took  his  limp  hand  and  bowed  her  forehead  on  it, 
as  before  feeling  by  some  fine  instinct  that  her  unspoken 
sympathy  was  best. 

It  was.  The  brave  man,  in  this  last  emergency,  did  as 
he  would  have  done  in  the  field  at  the  head  of  his  company 
if  subjected  to  a  sudden  attack.  He  promptly  rearranged 
and  marshalled  all  his  faculties  to  face  the  enemy.  There 
was  not  a  moment  of  despairing,  vain  retreat.  In  the  strong 
pressure  upon  his  mind  of  those  questions  which  must  now 
be  settled  once  for  all,  he  forgot  the  girl  by  his  side.  He 
was  still  so  long  that  she  timidly  raised  her  head  and  was 
awed  by  his  stern,  fixed  expression  of  deep  abstraction. 
She  did  not  disturb  him  except  as  the  stifled  sobs  of  her 
deep,  yet  now  passing  agitation  convulsed  her  bosom,  and 
she  began  to  give  her  attention  to  Uncle  Lusthah,  hitherto 
unheeded.  The  old  man  was  on  his  knees  in  a  dusky  cor- 
ner, praying  in  low  tones.  "Oh,  I'm  so  glad  he's  here," 
she  thought.  "I'm  glad  he's  praying  God  to  help  us  both." 
In  the  uncalculating  sympathy  and  strength  of  her  nature 
she  had  unconsciously  entered  into  the  dying  man's  experi- 
ence and  was  suffering  with  him.  Indeed,  her  heart  sank 
with  a  deeper  dread  and  awe  than  he  from  the  great  change 
which  he  had  faced  so  often  as  to  be  familiar  with  its 
thought. 


*' ANGEL    OF   DEATH''  281 

At  last  he  seemed  to  waken  to  her  presence  and  said 
compassionately,  ''Poor  little  girl!  so  all  your  grief  was 
about  me.     How  pale  you  are!" 

"I  do  so  wish  you  could  go  home,"  she  breathed;  "I  am 
so  very,  very  sorry. ' ' 

"Well,  Miss  Baron,"  he  replied  with  dignity,  "I'm  no 
better  than  thousands  of  others.  I  always  knew  this  might 
happen  any  day.  You  have  learned  why  it  is  peculiarly 
hard  for  me — but  that's  not  to  be  thought  of  now.  If  I've 
got  my  marching  orders,  that's  enough  for  a  soldier.  It 
was  scarcely  right  in  Borden  to  give  you  this  heavy  task. 
I  could  have  faced  the  truth  from  his  lips." 

"He  felt  so  dreadfully  about  it,"  she  replied.  "He  said 
he  had  been  giving  you  false  hopes  in  trying  to  make  you 
get  well." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  meant  kindly.  Well,  if  it  hasn't  been  too 
much  for  you,  I'm  glad  you  told  me.  Your  sympathy,  your 
face,  will  be  a  sweet  memory  to  carry,  God  only  knows 
where.  Since  it  can't  be  little  Sadie's  face  or  my  wife's 
I'm  glad  it's  yours.  What  am  I  saying?  as  if  I  should 
forget  their  dear  faces  through  all  eternity." 

"Ah!  captain,  I  wish  you  could  hear  one  of  our  soldiers, 
talk.     Dying  with  him  just  means  going  to  Heaven." 

The  officer  shook  his  head.  I'm  not  a  Christian,"  he 
said  simply. 

"Neither  am  I,"  she  replied,  "but  I've  been  made  to 
feel  that  being  one  is  very  different  from  what  I  once 
thought  it  was." 

"Well,  Miss  Baron,  what  is  it  to  be  a  Christian — what  is 
your  idea  of  it  ?  There  has  always  seemed  to  me  such  a  lot 
of  conflictinng  things  to  be  considered — well,  well,  I  haven't 
given  the  subject  thought  and  it's  too  late  now.  I  must 
give  my  mind  to  my  family  and — " 

Uncle  Lusthah  stepped  before  him  with  clasped  hands 
and  quivering  lips.  "Ef  marse  cap'n  des  list'n  ter  de  ole 
man  a  minit.  I  ain't  gwine  ter  talk  big  en  long.  I  kyant. 
1  des  wanter  say  I  hab  'spearance.      Dat  sump'n,   marse 


282  •  ''MISS   LOU" 

cap'n,  you  kyant  say  not'n  agin — rale  'spearauce,  sump'n 
I  knows/ ^ 

"Well,  you  kind  old  soul,  what  do  you  know?" 

''P'raps  des  what  mars' r  knows  ef  he  ony  tinks  a  lil. 
Let  us  git  right  down  ter  de  root  ob  de  marter,  kaze  I 
feared  dere  ain'  time  fer  'locutions." 

"Now  you're  right  at  least,  uncle.  I  must  set  my  house 
in  order.     I  must  write  to  my  wife. ' ' 

"Marse  cap'n,  you  gwine  on  a  journey.  Wa't  yo'  wife 
wish  mo'n  dat  you  git  ready  fer  de  journey?  She  tek  dat 
journey  tpo,  bime  by  soon,  en  you  bof  be  at  de  same  deah 
home. ' ' 

"Ah,  uncle,  if  that  could  be  true,  the  sting  of  death- 
would  be  gone." 

"Sut'ny,  marse  cap'n.  Didn't  I  know  dat  ar  w'en  I  mek 
bole  ter  speak?  Now  des  tink  on  hit,  mars' r.  Yere  I  is, 
an  ole  ign'rant  slabe,  kyant  eben  read  de  good  Book.  De 
worl'  full  ob  poor  folks  lak  me.  Does  you  tink  ef  de  Lawd 
mean  ter  sabe  us  't  all  He'd  do  hit  in  some  long  rouner- 
bout  way  dat  de  wise  people  kyant  mos'  fin'  out?  No, 
bress  He  gret  big  heart.  He  des  stan'  up  en  say  to  all, 
'Come  ter  me  en  I  gib  you  res'." 

"Yes,  uncle,  but  I  haven't  gone  to  Him.  I  don't  know 
how  to  go,  and  what's  more,  I  don't  feel  it's  right  to  go  now 
at  the  last  minute  as  if  driven  by  fear." 

"Now,  cap'n,  fergib  de  ole  man  fer  say  in'  you  all  wrong. 
Haint  young  mistis  been  breakin'  her  lil  gyurlish  heart 
ober  yo'  trouble?  Am  de  Lawd  dat  die  fer  us  wuss'n  a 
graven  himage?  Doan  He  feel  fer  you  mo'n  we  kin?  I 
reck'n  you  got  des  de  bes'  kin'  of  prep'ration  ter  go  ter 
'Im.  You  got  trouble.  How  He  act  toward  folks  dat  hab 
trouble — ev'y  kin'  ob  trouble?  Marse  cap'n,  Ides  knows 
dat  de  Lawd  wanter  brung  you  en  yo'  wife  en  dat  lil  Sadie 
I  year  you  talk  'bout  all  togeder  whar  He  is.  1  des  knows 
hit.     Hit's  'spearance." 

"Miss  Baron,"  said  the  captain  calmly,  "Isn't  it  wonder- 
ful?    This  old  slave  says  he  knows  what,  if  true,  is  worth 


''ANGEL    OF   DEATH"  283 

more  to  me  than  all  tke  accumulated  wisdom  of  the  world. 
What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"It  seems  as  if  it  ought  to  be  true,"  she  answered  ear- 
nestly. "I  never  so  felt  before  that  it  ought  to  be  true. 
We  never  should  have  been  born,  or  given  such  love  as 
you  have  for  your  dear  ones,  if  it  isn't  true.  Oh,  to  be  just 
snatched  hopelessly  away  from  such  ties  is  horrible.  My 
whole  soul  revolts  at  it. ' ' 

"See  here,  uncle,"  said  the  captain  almost  sternly,  "I'm 
not  going  to  groan,  sigh,  weep,  and  take  on  in  any  of  your 
camp-meeting  tactics.  I  am  before  the  last  great  enemy 
and  I  know  how  to  meet  him  like  a  man  and  soldier,  if  not 
a  Christian.  I'm  willing  to  do  anything  not  insincere  or 
unmanly  to  meet  my  wife  and  children  again.  If  my  thought 
and  feeling  for  them  at  this  time  isn't  right,  then  I've  been 
created  wrong." 

"Marse  cap'n,  I'se  seen  de  mos'  po'ful  feelin's  en  mis- 
eries ob  de  'victed  ones  vaperate  lak  de  maunin'  dew  en  I'se 
larn  in  my  ole  age  dat  de  sabin  po'r  ain'  in  we  uns,  ner  in 
any  ting  we  is  ob  oursefs  ner  in  w'at  we  po'  lil  chil'n  of 
yearth  kin  do.  De  Lawd  say,  He  come  ter  seek  en  sabe 
de  loss ;  I  wuz  loss.  De  wuss  ting  He  enemies  cud  speak 
agin  'Im  wuz,  Dis  man  'ceiveth  sinners:  I  wuz  a  sinner.  I 
des  arst  'Im  ter  sabe  me,  en  He  did.  I  des  trus'  'Im  fer 
life  en  death  en  does  de  bes'  I  kin.  Dat's  all.  But  hit's 
^ spear ance,  marse  cap'n,  en  I  knows  hit.  Now,  marse  cap'n, 
w'at  fo'  you  go  way  in  the  de  dark,  you  dunno  whar?  De 
bressed  Lawd  say,  I  go  ter  prepare  a  place  fer  you.  Now 
you  des  let  young  mistis  write  ter  yo'  folks  dat  you  gwine 
wid  Jesus  ter  dat  ar  place  en  dat  you  gwine  ter  wait  fer  dem 
dar  en  welcome  um  home  bime  by  des  lak  dey  wud  welcome 
you  home  way  up  Norf.  Dat  ud  comf't  em  a  heap,  en  hit's 
all  true.  I  knows  hit.  Young  mistis  berry  sens' ble  w'en 
she  say  we  neber  orter  be  bawn  ef  hit  ain'  true." 

The  officer  looked  fixedly  at  the  tearful,  wrinkled  face 
for  a  few  moments  and  then  said  firmly,  "I'll  soon  find  out 
if  it's  true.     If  I  do  this  thing  at  all,  I'll  do  it  in  the  only 


284  ''MISS  LOW 

way  I  can.  Miss  Baron,  you  may  write  to  my  wife  that  I 
accept  her  faith.  It's  much  the  same  as  Uncle  Lusthah's — 
too  simple  and  unphilosophical,  I  used  to  think;  but  it 
meets  my  need  now.  I  can't  deal  even  with  God  in  any 
other  way  than  this.  The  mind  he  has  endowed  me  with 
revolts  at  anything  else  as  hypocritical.  I  can  and  do  say 
that  I  will  accept  in  grateful,  downright  sincerity  the  terms 
which  Uncle  Lusthah  accepted,  which  my  wife  accepted. 
I  submit  myself  to  His  will.  I  do  this  calmly,  as  I  would 
give  my  hand  and  pledge  my  faith  to  a  man,  and  I  cannot 
do  any  more.  Now  He  may  do  with  me  as  He  pleases. 
Miss  Baron,  you  do  the  same  and  you'll  be  just  as  good — 
yes,  a  much  better  Christian  than  I,  for  I've  done  rough, 
bad  things  in  my  life.  Don't  you  wait  till  you're  in  my 
extremity.  I  must  say  that  I  have  a  wretched  sense  of  self- 
contempt  that  I  am  looking  Heavenward  with  dying  eyes. 
There's  only  one  thing  that  reconciles  me  to  it — the  words 
'Our  Father.'  God  knows  that  I'd  open  my  arms  to  my 
little  Sadie  under  any  possible  circumstances.  What  the 
old  man  here  says  must  be  true,  for  to  trifle  with  or  mock 
a  man  in  my  position  presupposes  a  degree  of  malignity 
inconceivable.  I  ask  nothing  better  than  that  Christ  will 
receive  me  as  I  would  receive  my  child  from  world-wide 
wandering." 

"Ah,  bress  He  big  gret  heart,"  cried  Uncle  Lusthah, 
dropping  on  his  knees,  "w'en  yo'  fader  en  yo'  moder  for- 
sook you  den  de  Lawd  took  you  up. ' ' 

"Miss  Baron,  I  wish  to  think  a  while  and  learn  from 
Borden  just  how  much  time  I  have  left.  You  will  come 
to  me  again?" 

"Yes,  whenever  you  wish." 

"Well,  then,  good-by  for  a  short  time.  Thank  God  for 
sending  me  such  an  angel  of  death.  You  stay  with  me, 
uncle,  till  I  send  you  for  Borden." 


GLIMPSES   OF  MOODS   AND   MINDS  285 


CHAPTER  XXX 

GLIMPSES   OF   MOODS   AND    MINDS 

DR.  BORDEN'S  predictions  were  verified  in  regard  to 
his  friend  and  patient,  Captain  Han  field,  but  not 
before  the  officer  had  dictated  calm,  farewell  letters 
to  his  wife  and  "little  Sadie."  To  Miss  Lou  were  left  the 
serene,  smiling  likenesses,  a  grave  to  be  cared  for  beside 
Yarry's,  and  a  memory  that  could  never  be  blotted  out. 
She  was  kept  from  witnessing  the  terrible  convulsions 
which  began  soon  after  her  interview,  but  was  present  at 
his  death  and  held  his  hand  until  it  was  cold  and  lifeless. 

Within  two  weeks  after  the  battle  very  few  patients  were 
left,  and  all  these  were  to  go  with  Dr.  Ackley  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  Lieutenant  Waldo  excepted.  He  was  still  too  weak 
to  be  moved.  His  mother  had  become  so  skilful  in  the  care 
of  his  wound  that  she  would  be  competent,  with  the  help  of 
an  aged  resident  practitioner,  to  carry  him  through  his  con- 
valescence. Mrs.  Whately  now  spent  most  of  the  time  on 
her  plantation,  her  presence  being  needed  there  to  remedy 
the  effects,  as  far  as  possible,  of  the  harsh  measures  at  first 
adopted  by  her  son.  It  was  discouraging  effort.  The  strong 
ebb  tide  in  the  old  order  of  things  had  set  in  even  far  from 
the  Union  lines,  and  only  the  difficulty  in  reaching  them 
prevented  a  general  stampede  of  the  negroes.  As  it  was, 
two  or  three  of  her  best  hands  would  steal  away  from  time 
to  time,  and  run  the  gantlet  of  many  dangers  in  their  travel 
by  night  Northward.  Her  attempts  to  mollify  and  render 
her  slaves  contented  were  more  than  counterbalanced  by 


286  ''MISS   LOU" 

the  threats  and  severity  of  her  son,  who  was  too  vacillating 
to  adopt  a  fixed  policy,  and  arbitrary  by  nature. 

Her  chief  hope  for  him  still  centred  in  Miss  Lou,  upon 
whom  his  thoughts  were  fixed  with  a  steadfastness  and  ear- 
nestness which  his  mother  fondly  believed  would  win  her 
eventually.  "I'm  sure,"  she  reasoned,  "Captain  Maynard 
has  made  no  deep  impression.  He  is  about  to  depart.  All 
will  soon  be  gone,  and  the  old  monotony  of  plantation  life 
will  be  resumed.  After  what  has  happened  Louise  will  not 
be  able  to  endure  this.  Madison  will  return,  older  and  wiser 
from  experience  and  she,  with  nothing  else  to  occupy  her 
thoughts  will  react,  like  all  impulsive  natures,  from  her  op- 
position. Next  to  winning  her  or  her  favor  from  the  start, 
he  has  scored  a  success  in  waking  a  hostility  far  removed 
from  fatal  indifference." 

She  maintained  an  affectionate  manner  toward  her  niece 
and  never  discussed  the  hope  she  entertained  and  expecta- 
tion of  calling  her  daughter.  In  truth,  she  had  won  the 
girl's  respect  and  goodwill  in  a  very  high  degree.  She  had 
been  a  kind  and  successful  nurse  among  the  wounded,  con- 
fining her  efforts  chiefly  to  the  Confederates.  She  had  also 
been  a  dignified  lady  in  all  the  scenes  they  had  passed 
through.  Her  weakness  was  her  son,  yet  the  girl  was  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  it  was  the  weakness  of  love.  In  seek- 
ing to  bring  about  the  detested  union  a  motherly  heart  and 
feeling  toward  her  had  ever  been  apparent. 

The  girl  was  already  becoming  depressed  by  a  presenti- 
ment of  the  dull,  stagnant  days  to  come.  Scoville  had  been 
lost  in  the  great  outside,  unknown  world  completely.  She 
was  suffering  from  reaction  after  the  strong  excitements  and 
fatigues  of  her  experience.  Her  two  lovers,  remaining  on 
the  scene,  possessed  a  sort  of  goading  interest  which  com- 
pelled her  to  think  of  them,  but  she  contemplated  their  near 
departure  without  regret.  Nothing  in  her  nature  answered 
to  their  looks,  words  and  evident  desires.  She  felt  that  she 
would  as  soon  marry  one  as  the  other,  and  that  she  would 
rather  be  buried  beside  Captain  Hanfield  and  take  the  jour- 


GLIMPSES   OF  MOODS   AND   MINDS  287 

ney  of  which  Uncle  Lusthah  had  quaintly  spoken  than  wed 
either.  Yet  in  her  lassitude  she  feared  that  she  could  now 
be  compelled  to  marry  either  or  any  one  if  enough  active 
force  was  employed,  so  strangely  had  ebbed  her  old  fearless 
spirit. 

It  were  with  a  kind  of  wondering  pity  that  she  looked  at 
Maynard  and  saw  the  evidences  of  an  honest,  ardent  attach- 
ment. "Why  does  he  feel  so  ?"  she  asked  herself.  "I  have 
done  nothing  for  him,  given  no  encouragement,  and  would 
not  care  if  I  never  saw  him  again.  I  merely  wish  him  well, 
as  I  do  so  many  others.  Why  can't  he  see  this,  and  just 
act  on  the  truth  ?  He  says  he  is  coming  to  see  me  every 
chance  he  gets  and  tries  to  make  me  feel  that  he'll  never 
give  me  up.  Perhaps  if  I  should  let  him  speak  plainly  he 
would  see  how  useless  it  all  would  be." 

Circumstances  apparently  favored  the  half-formed  pur- 
pose. Languid  from  the  heat  of  the  day,  she  went  out  on 
the  piazza  after  supper,  sat  down  on  the  upper  step  and 
leaned  against  a  rose-entwined  pillar.  Maynard  was  en- 
tranced by  the  picture  she  made  and  promptly  availed  him- 
self of  the  opportunity.  Every  one  else  had  disappeared 
except  Zany,  of  whom  glimpses  could  be  caught  through 
the  open  windows  of  the  supper- room;  but  she  did  not 
count.  Sitting  on  a  lower  step  so  as  to  be  in  a  measure 
at  her  feet  Maynard  began. 

"Miss  Baron,  I  am  thinking  very  sadly,  if  you  are  not, 
over  the  fact  that  I  am  to  go  away  in  the  morning. ' ' 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  half -consciously  ignoring  his  per- 
sonal view,  "the  old  house  and  plantation  will  soon  be  as 
quiet  and  deserted  as  before." 

"Do  you  regret  this  ?" 

"I  scarcely  know.  I  am  very  tired  and  feel  sad  over  all 
that  has  happened.  Perhaps  I'll  feel  differently  by  and 
by,  when  I've  rested  and  had  time  to  think." 

"Oh,  Miss  Baron,  if  you  knew  how  earnestly  I  hope  to 
be  remembered  in  those  thoughts,  to  give  you  something 
definite  to  think  of." 


288  ''MISS   LOU" 

She  had  scarcely  the  energy  to  check  him,  the  thought 
occurring  more  than  once,  "1  might  just  as  well  let  him 
speak  his  mind  and  see  how  vain  his  hope  is." 

"You  have  not  given  me  encouragement,"  he  resumed. 
"You  have  seemed  too  preoccupied,  sad  or  weary;  but 
this  phase  of  your  life  will  pass  away.  Our  glorious  cause 
must  soon  be  crowned  with  success.  If  I  survive,  may  I 
not  hope  that  when  I  come  again  you  will  give  me  a  hear- 
ing, a  chance  ?  I  can  be  patient,  even  though  not  patient 
by  nature.     1  will  do  all  that  a  man — " 

"Captain,"  interrupted  the  girl,  at  last,  "I  suppose,  from 
the  books  I've  read,  I  should  make  some  fine  speeches  about 
the  honor  you  are  bestowing  on  me,  and  all  that.  I'm  too 
tired  and  sad  for  anything  conventional  and  appropriate. 
I'm  just  going  to  answer  you  like  a  simple,  honest  girl. 
One  of  my  chief  reasons  for  sadness  is  that  you  feel  as  you 
do.  I  see  no  reason  for  it.  I'm  glad  you  say  I've  given 
you  no  encouragement,  I  know  I  have  not.  Why  should 
you  care  so  for  me  when  I  do  not  and  cannot  respond  at 
all  ?  I  do  sincerely  wish  you  well,  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
it  should  be  enough  for  a  man  when  a  girl  listens  to  such 
words  as  yours  in  weary  sadness  only." 

"It  may  be  hard  indeed  for  a  man  to  recognize  this  truth, 
Miss  Baron,  but  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  present— of  the 
future  rather.  There  has  been  much  to  make  you  sad  and 
weary.  Your  very  youth  and  high  spirit  will  soon  lead 
you  to  react  from  your  present  depression.  Let  me  speak 
of  the  future.  Please  let  me  fill  that  with  hope  for  you  and 
for  me. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  the  future.  For  some  reason 
I  dread  even  to  think  of  it. ' ' 

At  this  instant  Whately  galloped  to  the  piazza,  threw 
the  reins  on  the  neck  of  his  horse  as  he  dismounted,  evi- 
dently not  caring  in  his  perturbation  where  the  animal  wan- 
dered. He  was  in  a  bad  mood,  for  things  were  not  going 
smoothly  at  home.  The  attitude  of  his  rival  at  his  cousin's 
feet  stung  him  into  a  jealous  rage  and  he  remarked  bitterly 


GLIMPSES    OF   MOODS   AND   MINDS  289 

as  he  strode  past  them,  '* Don't  let  my  inopportune  arrival 
disturb  this  charming  t^te-a-tete.  In  fact,  I  had  no  busi- 
ness to  remain  at  my  uncle's  home  at  all,  even  at  the  call  of 
duty,  after  Captain  Maynard  signified  his  intention  of  mak- 
ing it  the  long-continued  field  of  his  operations." 

Cut  to  the  quick,  Maynard  sprang  to  his  feet,  but  Miss 
Lou  merely  made  a  gesture  of  annoyance  and  went  to  her 
room. 

"Lieutenant  Whately,"  began  the  captain  in  low,  stern 
tones,  "were  I  not  in  some  sense  a  guest,  even  though  an 
unwelcome  one — " 

"You  are  no  guest  of  mine,  sir,  nor  indeed  of  anyone 
that  I  am  aware  of." 

"Thank  you.  I  was  haunted  by  some  restraining  con- 
sideration of  Southern  hospitality,  but  if  I  am  free—" 

"You  are  perfectly  free,  sir,"  again  interrupted  Whately, 
dropping  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sabre.  "Let  me  also 
add  that  a  Southern  gentleman  would  not  have  made  South- 
ern hospitality  a  subterfuge  for  an  opportunity  to  press  a 
suit  repugnant  to  the  family  concerned.  We  have  never 
failed  in  hospitality  to  any  invited  guest." 

"Your  words  are  offensive,  sir." 

"I  mean  them  to  be  so." 

"Very  well;  then  I  have  but  one  answer.  I  chal- 
lenge you.  Choose  your  weapons,  hour  and  place  of 
meeting. ' ' 

"Eevolvers,  if  you  please.  Meet  me  back  of  the  grove 
yonder,  at  the  right  of  the  house,  at  daybreak." 

"I'll  not  fail  you.  There  is  no  need  of  seconds  in  this 
affair,  I  take  it,  and  we  are  to  keep  our  purpose  secret.  Dr. 
Ackley  would  interfere  and  the  family  be  distressed  were 
our  intentions  known. ' ' 

"No  one  need  know  till  our  shots  are  heard  and  then  it 
will  be  too  late  to  interfere.  I  insist  that  we  fight  to  the 
death." 

"Certainly,  if  that's  your  wish.     Good-evening,  sir." 

"Good-evening,"  and  Whately  went  to  his  room  to  re- 

EoE— IX— M 


290  ''MISS   LOW 

move  the  dust  of  his  ride  and  prepare  for  the  late  supper 
which  his  aunt  had  ordered  for  him. 

This  lady,  hearing  his  step  in  the  hall,  hastened  down- 
stairs and  called  for  Zany.  "Yassum,"  came  in  quick  re- 
sponse. The  young  woman  emerged  from  the  dining-room 
looking  as  stolid  as  a  wooden  image. 

"Attend  to  Lieutenant  Whately's  supper  and  see  that 
he  has  the  best  you  can  get  for  him." 

"Yassum." 

Mrs.  Baron  then  repaired  to  her  husband's  office,  where 
he  and  Surgeon  Ackley  were  closeted,  making  up  the  ac- 
counts relating  to  the  occupation  of  the  property  for  hos- 
pital purposes.  Maynard  lighted,  his  pipe,  and  strolled  out 
into  the  grounds.  He  was  in  a  cold,  deadly  mood  of  anger. 
There  was  just  enough  sting  of  truth  in  Whately's  words  to 
make  th^  insult  unendurable.  Added  to  this  was  intense 
exasperation  that  he  had  been  interrupted  at  a  critical  and^ 
as  he  believed,  a  hopeful,  moment.  He  had  seen  that  the 
girl  was  not  ready  for  his  suit  or  that  of  any  one  at  present, 
but  was  quite  sure  he  could  have  won  permission  to  renew 
his  addresses  in  the  future.  Now — well,  he  was  ready 
enough  to  fight  to  the  death  and  utterly  oblivious  of  the 
still,  serene  beauty  of  the  night.  He  appeared  but  a  shadow 
as  he  walked  quietly  under  the  trees,  but  it  was  a  shadow  of 
death.  An  hour  since  and  he  was  but  a  passionate  youth, 
full  of  ardent  love  and  longing,  vaguely  inspired,  under  the 
influence  of  his  passion,  toward  all  noble  enthusiasms.  At 
the  touch  of  a  few  words  his  heart  overflowed  with  bitter- 
ness, and  a  cold,  vindictive  hate  rendered  the  hours  intermi- 
nable till  he  could  aim  a  bullet  at  his  rival's  heart,  reckless 
meantime  that  another  bullet  was  aimed  at  his. 

In  his  walk  he  passed  the  tent  in  which  Lieutenant 
Waldo  and  his  mother  were  talking  quietly  of  their  home 
and  the  prospects  of  maintaining  it  during  the  troublous 
times  clearly  foreseen. 

"Mother,"  said  Waldo,  "have  you  any  definite  idea  as 
to  the  success  of  our  arms?" 


GLIMPSES    OF   MOODS    AND    MINDS  291 

'*No,  Yincent,  nor  do  I  suppose  we  can  at  this  remote 
plantation.  We  only  know  that  there  is  heavy  fighting  at 
various  points  and  great  successes  are  claimed;  but  it  seems 
very  hard  to  get  at  the  real  truth.  Our  chief  confidence 
must  be  in  the  sacredness  and  justness  of  our  cause  and  in 
the  prayers  of  so  many  sincere  hearts  to  the  God  of  justice. 
In  giving  you,  my  son,  to  our  country,  when  you  were 
scarcely  more  than  a  boy,  you  can  understand  why  I  feel 
that  such  sacrifices  cannot  be  in  vain.  Now  that  I  have 
watched  beside  you  in  your  patient,  heroic  sufiiering,  the 
feeling  becomes  a  conviction  that  our  sunny  land  must 
be  enriched  and  blessed  for  all  time  by  such  blood  as 
yours. ' ' 

"Well,  mother,  I  do  not  begrudge  my  blood  or  my  life. 
You  have  taught  me  that  to  die  is  gain;  but  almost  hourly 
I  pray  for  recovery  that  I  may  soon  rejoin  my  regiment  and 
do  more  toward  achieving  our  liberty.  How  strange  it  is 
that  men  of  the  North  should  be  animated  by  much  the 
same  spirit!  Miss  Baron  has  been  showing  me  the  lovely 
faces  of  the  wife  and  daughter  of  a  Federal  officer  who  died 
heroically  a  few  days  ago.  She  says  the  war  is  all  a  dread- 
ful mystery  to  her." 

"I  am  beginning  to  understand  her  better,"  replied  Mrs. 
Waldo  musingly,  "for  to  some  extent  she  has  given  me  her 
confidence.  If  she  had  been  brought  up  as  you  have  been 
she  would  feel  as  you  do.  I  can  see  why  her  uncle  and 
aunts  have  not  won  her  sympathy,  while  her  cousin's  con- 
duct has  been  well  calculated  to  alienate  her.  I  can  also 
understand  why  the  negroes  on  the  place  have  so  enlisted 
her  sympathy.  I  do  not  think  they  have  been  treated  very 
harshly,  but  it  is  too  clear  that  they  are  regarded  simply  as 
property,  and  Mr.  Baron  has  allowed  himself  to  be  repre- 
sented among  them  by  a  brutal,  coarse-fibred  man.  If  she 
had  been  your  sister  and  had  witnessed  the  spirit  in  which 
our  slaves  are  governed  and  cared  for  she  would  ^eel  as  you 
do,  not  vindictive  hatred  of  the  North — such  feeling  is  not 
permissible  toward  any  of  the  human  race — but  a  stern, 


292  ''MISS    LOW 

lofty  spirit  of  iudependence,  sach  as  our  fathers  had  in  sep- 
arating from  England." 

"Well,  she  is  a  brave,  good  girl,  mother,  and  has  been  as 
kind  to  me  as  if  I  were  her  brother. ' ' 

"Very  true,  Vincent.  She  is  a  remarkably  good  girl  for 
one  brought  up  as  she  has  been.  She  has  lold  me  much 
about  her  past  repressed,  unhappy  life.  1  hope  she  way 
visit  us  some  day." 

Meantime,  the  subject  of  this  conversation  sat  at  her 
window  looking  out  into  the  warm,  fragrant,  starlit  night. 
The  words  of  Maynard,  the  passionate  resentment  of  her 
cousin  toward  the  young  captain  merely  added  to  the  heavy 
burden  of  experience  which  had  been  crowded  into  the  past 
few  weeks.  "Oh,"  she  sighed  longingly,  "if  I  could  only 
see  Allan  Scoville !  He  is  so  strong,  unselfish  and  restful. 
I  could  tell  him  everything.  He  would  know  just  how 
weary  and  depressed  I  am,  nor  would  he  want  me  to  do 
what  1  can't,  what  I'm  not  ready  for.  Oh,  what  a  blessed 
thing  it  would  be  to  have  a  friend  near  who  wasn't  always 
exacting  or  expecting  or  passionately  urging  something  or 
other.  I  wouldn't  need  urging  in  his  case,  and  would  even 
know  his  hand  would  be^he  first  to  restrain  me  for  my  own 
good.  Where  is  he  now?  Oh,  he'd  be  here  if  my  thoughts 
could  bring  him,  yet  my  two  lovers  would  be  eager  to  take 
his  life.  Lovers  indeed!  Well,  it's  a  strange,  tangled  up 
world  that  I'm  learning  about." 

Meantime  Zany,  bursting  with  her  secret,  was  unable  to 
tell  any  one,  and  not  yet  sure  she  wished  to  tell.  For  one 
at  her  point  of  civilization  her  motives  were  a  little  complex 
and  sophisticated.  In  a  vicarious  way  she  felt  not  a  little 
the  elation  of  many  a  high-born  dame  that  two  men  were 
about  to  fight  over  her  young  mistress,  regarding  it  as  an 
undeniable  compliment.  She  was  also  inclined  to  indulge 
the  cynical  thought  that  it  might  save  Miss  Lou,  Scoville, 
Chunk — indeed,  all  in  whom  she  was  interested — further 
trouble  if,  as  she  phrased  it,  "Dat  ar  young  cap'n  gib  Mad 
Whately  he  way  onst  too  of'un.      He  des  natchelly  bawn 


GLIMPSES   OF   MOODS    AND    MINDS  293 

ter  mek  folks  trouble  en  I  reck'n  we  git  on  wid  he  spook 
bettah  ner  hesel" 

Whately  would  not  have  relished  his  supper  if  he  had 
divined  the  thoughts  of  his  waitress.  As  it  was,  he  had 
little  appetite  for  it  and  paid  his  respects  chiefly  to  his 
uncle's  decanter.  He  felt  no  need  of  false  courage,  but 
was  irritated  and  depressed  over  the  general  aspect  of  af- 
fairs, and  here  was  an  easy  way  of  raising  his  spirits.  By 
the  time  he  was  ready  to  dispense  with  Zany's  services  he 
was  so  affected  by  his  potations  that  his  aunt,  who  had  ap- 
peared on  the  scene,  hastened  his  retirement.  He  told  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  to  have  him  called  at  daybreak  and 
was  soon  asleep. 

The  indomitable  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Baron,  kept  the  girl 
busy  until  everything  was  put  away  and  the  dining-room  in 
perfect  order.  Meantime  Zany  concluded  that  she  had  better 
tell  Miss  Lou.  Her  young  mistress  might  blame  her  severely 
if  she  did  not,  and  keeping  such  a  secret  over  night  would 
also  be  a  species  of  torture. 

When  she  was  dismissed  she  watched  her  opportunity, 
whisked  up  to  Miss  Lou's  room,  and  was  glad  to  find  the 
girl  still  awake. 

"Oh,  Miss  Lou,"  she  whispered  breathlessly,  "I  des  got 
de  orfulest,  quarest  news,  en  I  darsn't  kep  hit  eny  longer. 
Marse  cap'n  en  Mad  Whately  gwine  ter  fight  'bout  you  fo' 
sun-up." 

"What!" 

"Dey  sut'ny  is.  Dey  gwine  ter  fight  one  anoder  'bout 
you  wid  'volvers — fight  ter  de  deth  dey  said.  I  y eared  dem 
troo  de  dine- room  winders." 

"Oh,  Zany!  this  is  horrible!" 

"Hit  mout  be  wuss.  Yo'  cousin  hot  fer  hit.  He  say 
orful  tings  ter  marse  cap'n  who  didin't  gib  back  a  inch  en 
sez,  sez  he,  'I  challing  you.  Shoose  yo'  weapons  en  place 
ob  meetin  "  Dem  he  berry  words.  Den  yo'  cousin  shose 
'volvers  en  de  far  side  ob  de  grobe  up  dar  en  said  'we  fight 
ter  de  deth. '     Deth  useter  seem  orful.  Miss  Lou,  but  sech 


294  ''MISS   LOU** 

a  heap  ob  mens  die  dat  ef  Mad  Whately  des  set  on  dyin', 
w'y  not  let  'im  hab  he  way?  Dat  orter  suit  'im  bes'.  I 
reck'n  he  mek  we  uns  en  Marse  Scoville  en  Chunk  berry  lil 
trouble  arter  he  dead. ' ' 

"Zany,  Zany,  that's  a  dreadful  way  to  look  at  it.  You 
should  know  better.  This  meeting  must  be  prevented. 
Where  is  my  cousin  ?' ' 

"He  des  sound  a  sleep  ez  a  log,"  and  she  made  it  clear 
that  there  would  be  no  use  in  trying  to  remonstrate  with 
him. 

"Whereas  Captain  Maynard  ?" 

"Dunno.  Sleepin'  in  he  tent  too,  s'pose.  Hit  too  late 
now,  Miss  Lou,  ter  do  anyting  fo'  mawnin'." 

The  girl  thought  deeply  a  few  moments  and  then  mut- 
tered, "Shame  on  them  both!" 

"Dar  now,  Miss  Lou,  you  doan  reckermember  dey  payin' 
you  a  big  compelment. ' ' 

"I  shall  tell  them  to  their  faces  how  I  regard  this  out- 
rage rather.  Still,  for  their  sakes,  as  well  as  my  own,  I 
will  keep  the  affair  quiet  if  I  can.  Zany,  you  must  stay 
with  me  to-night  and  at  the  earliest  dawn  we  must  watch 
them  and  be  on  the  ground  as  soon  as  they  are." 

"Berry  well.  Miss  Lou.     I  lak  not'n  bettah. " 

"Go  to  sleep,  then.     1  won't  sleep  to-night.'* 


THE   DUELLISTS    VANQUISHED  295 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE    DUELLISTS   VANQUISHED 

ZANY'S  tidings  brought  the  spur  of  a  great  necessity  to 
Miss  Lou's  jaded  spirit,  and  as  her  waking  thoughts 
dwelt  on  the  proposed  encounter,  a  slow,  deep  anger 
was  kindled  in  her  mind.  "What  right  have  they  to  do 
such  a  thing?"  she  asked  herself  over  and  over  again. 
Even  niore  than  at  the  barbarism  of  the  act  she  revolted  at 
its  injustice.  "I  never  wronged  either  of  them,"  she  re- 
peated, "and  here  they  are  recklessly  bent  on  what  would 
imbitter  my  life.  The  idea  of  being  fought  about!  Two 
animals  couldn't  do  worse." 

And  so  the  long  night  was  passed  in  bitter,  painful 
thoughts.  With  the  dawning  the  bird's  innocent  songs 
jarred  on  her  overwrought  senses.  She  looked  out  of  the 
window  by  which  she  had  kept  her  vigil,  inhaled  the  dewy 
freshness  of  the  air  and  then  bathed  her  tired,  hot  eyes. 

"To  think  that  men  would  disturb  the  peace  of  such  a 
morning  by  their  miserable,  causeless  hate!  Where  is  Mad- 
ison's love  for  his  mother?  Why  don't  they  remember  the 
distress  and  horror  that  would  follow  their  mad  act  ?  Zany, 
wake  up.     It  is  time  we  were  on  the  watch." 

Even  as  she  spoke  there  was  a  heavy  step  in  the  outer 
hall,  that  of  the  sergeant  coming  to  wake  Lieutenant  Whately. 
Miss  Lou  glanced  from  her  window  in  time  to  see  Captain 
Maynard  striding  from  his  tent  toward  the  grove  which 
would  screen  the  combatants  from  observation.  Waiting  a 
few  moments  for  the  sergeant  to  retire  she  and  Zany  slipped 
down  and  out  before  Whately  left  his  room.  They  reached 
the  grove  from  the  back  entrance  of  the  house,  and  conceal- 


296  '\M1SS  LOU" 

ing  themselves  in  some  copse- wood,  watched  for  Whately's 
coming.  He  soon  appeared,  walking  rapidly  as  if  fearing 
to  be  behind  time.  He  was  in  fact  some  moments  late,  hav- 
ing stopped  to  advise  Perkins  of  the  affair  on  hand.  He 
passed  so  near  his  cousin's  leafy  screen  that  she  could  look 
into  his  flushed,  troubled  face  and  could  hear  him  mutter, 
"Curse  it  all!     I'm  forever  getting  into  scrapes." 

For  the  first  time  since  Zany's  news,  pity  overcame  her 
anger  and  she  murmured,  "Poor  spoiled  boy!  It's  well  for 
you  and  your  mother  that  I'm  here." 

Swiftly  she  followed  him  through  the  still  dusky  grove, 
keeping  the  boles  of  trees  between  herself  and  his  form.  Be- 
yond the  grove  was  an  open  grassy  field,  facing  the  east, 
where  the  light  was  distinct.  Clearly  outlined  against  the 
rose-tinted  horizon  was  the  figure  of  Maynard  standing  with 
his  arms  folded  and  his  back  toward  them,  apparently  lost 
in  deep  thought. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Whately  sternly,  "I  suppose  I  should 
asked  your  pardon  for  keeping  you  waiting." 

"I  reckon  there's  plenty  of  time  for  the  purpose  of  our 
meeting,"  replied  Maynard  coolly.  "Since  you  are  the 
challenged  party  and  we  have  no  seconds,  arrange  the  mat- 
ter to  suit  yourself." 

Whately  was  about  to  pace  off  the  ground  when  a  girl's 
voice  rang  out  clearly,  "Stop  that!" 

"Miss  Baron!"  cried  Maynard,  taking  off  his  hat. 

Whately  threw  back  his  head  proudly.  This  was  better 
than  he  had  dreamed,  for  now  his  cousin  would  be  compelled 
to  recognize  his  high  and  haughty  spirit.  A  glance  at  the 
girl's  pale,  stern  face  as  she  stepped  out  between  them  was 
not  altogether  reassuring.  She  glanced  coldly  from  one  to 
the  other  for  a  moment  and  then  said  firmly,  "I  have  some- 
thing to  say  about  this  affair." 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Baron,"  Maynard  began,  bowing,  "if 
I  am  compelled  to  disabuse  your  mind.  This  is  a  little  mat- 
ter between  Lieutenant  Whately  and  myself.  I  am  surprised 
beyond  measure  that  he  has  invited  you  to  be  present." 


THE   DUELLISTS    VANQUISHED  297 

"That's  a  lie,"  thundered  Whately,  drawing  his  weapon 
from  his  belt. ' ' 

"Stop,  both  of  you,"  cried  the  girl.  "Captain  Maynard, 
my  cousin  has  not  invited  me.  Your  purpose  of  meeting 
was  discovered  by  accident  and  revealed  to  me  late  last 
night — too  late  for  me  to  do  anything  then.  All  the  long 
night  I  have  sat  at  my  window  that  I  might  be  in  time  to 
keep  you  from  disgracing  yourselves  and  me. ' ' 

"Great  heavens!  Miss  Baron,  you  do  me  injustice,"  cried 
Maynard.  "I  have  been  insulted.  I  never  thought  of 
wronging  you.     Perish  such  a  thought!" 

"Evidently  neither  of  you  has  thought  of  me,  nor  cared 
for  me  or  others.  Yourselves,  your  own  vindictive  feelings 
have  engrossed  you  wholly,  yet  I  know  I'm  the  innocent 
cause  of  this  brutal  encounter,  and  the  world  would  know 
me  to  be  the  cause  whether  it  believed  me  innocent  or  not. 
1  tell  you  plainly  that  if  you  fight  I  shall  brand  you  both 
unworthy  the  name  of  gentlemen  and  I  shall  proclaim  to  all 
your  outrage  to  me. ' ' 

"Outrage  to  you,  Miss  Baron?"  said* Maynard,  with  a 
bitter,  incredulous  laugh. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  turning  upon  him  fiercely.  "What 
can  you  think  of  me  when  you  fight  about  me  like  a  wild 
beast?" 

"I  am  prepared  to  fight  Lieutenant  Whately  on  entirely 
different  grounds,"  he  replied,  his  face  flushing  hotly  at 
her  words. 

"You  cannot  do  it,  sir.  I  would  know,  and  so  would 
all,  that  I  was  the  cause.  What  right,  sir,  have  you  to  im- 
bitter  my  life,  to  fill  my  days  and  nights  with  horror  ?  I 
never  wronged  you." 

"But,  Miss  Baron,  in  all  ages  such  encounters  have  been 
common  enough  when  a  man  received  ample  provocation, 
as  I  have. ' ' 

"So  much  the  worse  for  the  ages  then.  I  say  that  you 
both  were  about  to  commit  a  selfish,  cowardly,  unmanly  act 
that  would  have  been  an  outrage  in  its  cruelty  to  an  inno- 


298  ''MISS   LOU" 

cent  girl,  to  whom  you  had  been  making  false  professions 
of  regard. ' ' 

''Now,  by  the  God  who  made  me,  that's  not  true,  Miss 
Baron." 

"Cousin  Lou,  you  are  beside  yourself,"  cried  Whately. 

"Miss  Baron,"  said  Maynard,  coming  to  her  side  and 
speaking  with  great  earnestness,  "I  can  endure  any  charge 
better  than  your  last.  No  man  ever  declared  truer  love 
than  I  to  you." 

"I  can  tell  you  of  a  man  who  has  declared  truer  love," 
she  replied,  looking  him  steadily  in  the  eyes. 

"Who  in  God's  name?"  he  asked  savagely. 

"  J.n?/ man  who  thought  more  of  the  girl  than  of  him- 
self," she  answered  with  passionate  pathos  in  her  tones, 
"any  man  who  considered  her  before  his  own  reckless,  un- 
governable feelings,  who  would  save  her  heart  from  sorrow 
rather  than  gratify  his  anger.  Any  man  who  asks.  What  is 
best  for  the  woman  I  love?  instead  of  What's  my  humor? 
what  will  please  me?  Suppose  you  both  had  carried  out 
your  savage  impulses,  and  lay  on  this  ground,  wounded  or 
dead,  what  would  be  said  at  the  house  there  about  me? 
What  would  be  your  mother's  fate,  Madison,  that  you 
might  gratify  a  causeless  spite  ?  Have  you  no  home,  Cap- 
tain Maynard,  no  kindred  who  would  always  curse  my 
name  ?  If  you  had  died  like  the  brave  men  who  lie  in 
yonder  graves  your  friends  would  ever  speak  your  name 
proudly;  but  even  I,  all  inexperienced,  know  the  world 
well  enough  to  be  only  too  sure,  they  would  hang  their 
heads  and  say  you  flung  away  your  life  for  a  heartless  girl 
who  was  amusing  herself  at  your  expense.  Fight  if  you 
will,  but  if  you  do,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  will  never 
willingly  look  upon  either  of  you  again,  living  or  dead!" 

She  was  about  to  turn  away  when  Maynard  rushed  be- 
fore her  exclaiming,  "Miss  Baron,  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  ask 
your  forgiveness.  I  never  saw  this  act  in  the  light  you 
place  it. ' ' 

"There,  cousin,"  added  Whately  with  a  sort  of  shame- 


THE   DUELLISTS    VANQUISHED  299 

faced  laugh,  "I'm  hanged  if  you  aren't  in  the  right  and  I  in 
the  wrong  again.  As  you  say,  the  bullet  that  killed  me 
might  do  worse  by  mother,  and  I  should  have  thought 
of  that.  As  for  you,  we  didn't  think  you'd  look  at  it  this 
way.  There's  plenty  of  girls  who'd  think  it  a  big  feather 
in  their  caps  to  have  men  fight  about  'em." 
•      "I  can't  believe  it." 

"It's  true,  nevertheless,"  said  Maynard  earnestly. 
"What  can  I  do  to  right  myself  in  your  eyes?" 

"If  you  wish  to  be  men  whose  friendship  I  can  value, 
shake  hands  and  use  your  weapons  for  your  country.  If 
you  truly  care  for  my  good  opinion,  forget  yourselves  long 
enough  to  find  out  what  does  please  me  and  not  rush  head- 
long into  action  I  detest.  Consider  the  rights,  feelings  and 
happiness  of  others. ' ' 

"Well,  Whately,  what  do  you  say?"  asked  Maynard 
with  a  grim  laugh.  "I  am  ready  to  obey  Miss  Baron  as  I 
would  my  superior  officer,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Whately  took  it  with  an  answering  laugh,  saying, 
"There's  nothing  else  left  us  to  do.  After  her  words,  we 
could  no  more  fight  each  other  than  shoot  her." 

' '  Thank  you.  I — I — Zany, ' '  she  f al tered,  turning  deathly 
white.  She  would  have  fallen  had  not  her  cousin  sprung  to 
her  aid,  supporting  her  to  a  seat  on  a  moss-grown  log  lying 
near. 

For  a  few  moments  the  long  strain  and  reaction  proved 
too  much  for  her,  and  she  sat,  pale  and  panting,  her  head 
resting  against  Zany,  who  had  rushed  from  her  covert.  The 
young  men  were  overwhelmed  with  compunction  and  alarm, 
but  she  retained  and  silenced  them  by  a  gesture.  "I'll  be — 
better — in  a  moment,"  she  gasped. 

It  proved  but  a  partial  giving  way  of  her  nervous  force. 
In  a  few  moments  she  added,  "Please  go  back  to  the  house 
by  different  ways.  No  one  need  know  anything  about  this. 
No,  don't  call  any  one.  I'll  get  better  faster  if  left  with 
Zany.  I  beg  you  do  as  I  ask  and  then  my  mind  will  be 
at  rest." 


300  *'MISS   LOU" 

"There,  Miss  Baron,"  said  the  remorseful  Maynard,  *'I 
pledge  you  my  word  I'll  never  fight  a  duel.  I  can  prove 
my  courage  sufficiently  against  the  enemy." 

She  smiled,  held  out  her  hand,  which  he  carried  to  his 
lips  and  reluctantly  departed. 

"See  here.  Cousin  Lou,"  said  Whately  impulsively,  "I'm 
going  to  give  you  an  honest,  cousinly  kiss.  I'm  not  so* 
feather-headed  as  not  to  know  you've  got  us  both  out  of 
a  devil  of  a  scrape." 

He  suited  the  action  to  his  words,  and  strode  off  in  time 
to  intercept  Perkins,  who  had  the  scent  of  a  vulture  for  a 
battle.  "We  have  arranged  the  affair  for  the  present,"  said 
the  young  officer  curtly,  "and  won't  need  any  graves  to-day« 
Keep  mum  about  this." 

"I'll  keep  my  mouth  close  enough  till  I  kin  begin  ter  bite 
on  my  own  account,"  muttered  the  overseer  as  he  sullenly 
followed. 


SAD    TIDINGS  301 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

SAD   TIDINGS 

THAT  morning  Miss  Lou  stood  on  the  veranda  and 
bade  farewell,  one  after  another,  to  those  with  whom 
she  had  been  associated  so  strangely  and  unexpect- 
edly. There  was  an  unwonted  huskiness  in  Dr.  Borden's 
voice,  and  Ackley,  usually  so  grim  and  prompt,  held  the 
girl's  hand  lingeringly  as  he  tried  to  make  a  joke  about  her 
defying  him  and  the  whole  Confederacy.  It  was  a  dismal 
failure.     Regarding  him  with  her  weary  eyes,  she  said: 

"Doctor,  you  had  wit  enough  and  heart  enough  to  under- 
stand and  subdue  me.     Haven't  I  minded  you  since  ?" 

''I'm  a  little  afraid  you'd  still  get  the  upper  hand  if  you 
often  looked  at  me  as  you  do  now.  I  shall  find  out,  how- 
ever, if  you  will  obey  one  more  order.  Miss  Baron,  you 
must  rest.  Your  pulse  indicates  unusual  exhaustion.  You 
have  tried  to  do  too  much,  and  I  expect  those  young  men 
have  been  making  such  fierce  and  counter  claims  that  you 
are  all  worn  out.  Ah,  if  I  had  been  only  twenty  years 
younger  I  would  have  won  you  by  a  regular  course  of  scien- 
tific love-making." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  science  and  wouldn't 
understand  you.  So  it  is  better  as  it  is,  for  I  do  understand 
what  a  good,  kind  friend  you've  been.  You  knew  all  the 
while  that  I  was  little  more  than  an  ignorant  child,  yet  your 
courtesy  was  so  fine  that  you  treated  me  like  a  woman.  I 
hope  we  shall  meet  again  in  brighter  days.  Yes,  I  will  obey 
you,  for  I  feel  the  need  of  rest. ' ' 

''I  shall  come  again  and  take  my  chances, "  said  Maynard 
in  parting. 


802  ''MISS   LOU" 

Mercurial  Whatelj,  forgetting  his  various  troubles  and 
experiences  in  the  excitement  of  change  and  return  to  ac- 
tive duty,  bade  her  a  rather  boisterous  and  good- hearted 
farewell.  His  mind  was  completely  relieved  as  to  Maynard, 
and  he  did  not  dream  of  Scoville  as  a  serious  rival. 

"It's  only  a  question  of  time,"  he  thought,  "and  at 
present  mother  can  do  the  courting  better  than  I  can. 
When  I  return  Lou  will  be  so  desperately  bored  by  her 
stupid  life  here  as  to  be  ready  for  any  change. ' ' 

The  remaining  patients  looked  at  her  and  Mrs.  Whately 
very  wistfully  and  gratefully,  speaking  reluctant  adieus. 
When  all  were  gone  the  girl,  feeling  that  she  had  reached 
the  limit  of  endurance,  went  to  her  room  and  slept  till  even- 
ing. It  was  the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  so  heavy  that  she  came 
down  to  a  late  supper  weak  and  languid.  But  youth  is  elas- 
tic, the  future  full  of  infinite  possibilities.  Scoville's  words 
haunted  her  like  sweet  refrains  of  music.  No  matter  how 
weary,  perplexed  and  sad  she  was,  the  certainty  of  her 
place  in  his  thoughts  and  heart  sustained  her  and  was  like 
a  long  line  of  light  in  the  west,  indicating  a  clearing  storm. 
"He  will  come  again,"  she  often  whispered  to  herself;  "he 
said  he  would  if  he  had  to  come  on  crutches.  Oh,  he  does 
love  me.  He  gave  me  his  love  that  night  direct,  warm  from 
his  heart,  because  he  couldn't  help  himself.  He  thought 
he  loved  me  before — when,  by  the  run,  he  tqld  me  of  it  so 
quietly,  so  free  from  all  exaction  and  demands;  but  I  didn't 
feel  it.  It  merely  seemed  like  bright  sunshine  of  kindness 
and  goodwill,  very  sweet  and  satisfying  then.  But  when 
we  were  parting,  when  his  tones  trembled  so,  when  over- 
come, he  lost  restraint  and  snatched  me  to  his  heart — then 
I  learned  that  /,  too,   had  a  heart." 

If  she  had  been  given  time  this  new  heart- life,  with 
thoughts  and  hopes  springing  from  it  like  flowers,  would 
have  restored  her  elasticity.  Scoville's  manly  visage,  his 
eyes,  so  often  mirthful,  always  kind,  would  have  become 
so  real  to  her  fancy  that  the  pallid,  drawn  features  of  the 
suffering,  the  dying  and  the  dead,  would  have  faded  from 


SAD    TIDINGS  803 

her  memory.  So  would  have  faded  also  the  various  as- 
pects of  passion  from  which  she  had  shrunk,  frightened 
by  its  hot  breath.  Her  days  would  have  been  filled  with 
the  beautiful,  innocent  dreams  of  a  young  girl's  first  love 
so  inspired  as  to  cast  out  fear. 

But  the  ruthless  Moloch  of  war  could  not  permit  any- 
thing so  ideal,  so  heavenly,  as  this. 

Mrs.  Waldo  came  down  from  the  apartment  to  which 
her  son  had  been  removed  and  joined  the  girl  on  the  ve- 
randa. "Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  *'I  have  taken  solid  comfort 
all  day  in  the  thought  that  you  were  sleeping,  and  now  you 
are  still  resting.  I  want  to  see  the  color  in  your  cheeks 
again,  and  the  tired  look  all  gone  from  your  eyes  before 
we  go." 

"You  don't  know  how  I  dread  to  have  you  go,"  replied 
Miss  Lou.  "From  the  first  your  son  did  more  for  me  than 
I  could  do  for  him.  The  smile  with  which  he  always  greeted 
me  made  me  feel  that  nothing  could  happen  beyond  remedy, 
and  so  much  that  was  terrible  was  happening. ' ' 

"Well,  my  child,  that's  the  faith  I  am  trying  to  cherish 
myself  and  teach  my  boy.  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  know 
what  a  black  gulf  opened  at  my  feet  when  my  noble  hus- 
band was  killed  early  in  the  war.  Such  things,  happily, 
are  known  only  by  experience,  and  many  escape.  Then  our 
cause  demanded  my  only  son.  I  face  death  with  him  in 
every  battle,  every  danger.  He  takes  risks  without  a 
thought  of  fear,  and  I  dare  not  let  him  know  the  agony 
of  my  fear.  Yet  in  my  widowhood,  in  the  sore  pressure  of 
care  and  difficulty  in  managing  a  large  plantation  in  these 
times,  I  have  found  my  faith  in  God's  love  adequate  to  my 
need.  I  should  still  find  it  so  if  I  lost  my  boy.  I  could  not 
escape  the  suffering,  but  I  would  not  sorrow  as  without 
hope." 

"How  much  I  would  give  for  the  certainty  of  such  a 
faith!"  said  Miss  Lou  sadly.  "Sometimes,  since  Captain 
Hanfield  died,  I  think  I  feel  it.  And  then — oh,  I  don't 
know.    Things  might  happen  which  1  couldn't  meet  in  your 


304  ''MISS   LOU'' 

spirit.     If  I  had  been  compelled  to  marry  my  cousin  I  feel 
that  I  should  have  become  hard,  bitter  and  reckless." 

"You  poor,  dear  little  girl!  Well,  you  were  not  com- 
pelled to  marry  him.  Don't  you  see?  We  are  saved  from 
some  things  and  given  strength  to  bear  what  does  happen. 
Don't  you  worry  about  yourself,  my  dear.  Just  look  up 
and  trust.  Happily,  the  sun  of  God's  love  shines  on  just 
the  same,  unaffected  by  the  passing  clouds  of  oar  feelings 
and  experiences.  He  sees  the  end  and  knows  all  about  the 
peaceful,  happy  eternity  before  us.  You  dear,  worn-out  little 
child!  His  love  is  ever  about  you  like  my  arms  at  this  mo- 
ment, ' '  and  the  old  lady  drew  the  girl  to  her  in  an  impulse 
of  motherly  tenderness. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Waldo,  you  make  me  feel  what  it  is  to  have 
no  mother,"  sobbed  Miss  Lou. 

"Well,  my  dear,  that's  your  heavy  cross.  Sooner  or 
later,  in  some  form,  a  cross  burdens  every  human  soul,  too 
often  many  crosses.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  not  to  try  to  bear 
them  alone.  See  how  faith  changed  everything  for  Captain 
Hanfield  in  his  extremity.  He  is  now  in  the  better  home, 
waiting  for  his  dear  ones." 

"I  can  never  forget  what  faith  has  done  for  you  and  your 
son,  Mrs.  Waldo.  Surgeon  Ackley  said  that  your  son's 
absolute  quiet  and  cheerfulness  of  mind  during  the  first 
critical  days  saved  his  life." 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  Mrs.  Waldo  replied  with  her  low, 
sweet  laugh.  "Faith  is  often  more  useful  in  helping  us  to 
live  than  in  preparing  us  to  die.  It  saved  my  life,  too,  I'm 
sure,  after  my  husband  died,  I  had  no  right  to  die  then, 
for  Vincent  and,  far  more,  my  daughters,  still  needed 
me. 

For  a  time  they  sat  on  the  piazza  steps  in  silence,  the 
old  lady  keeping  her  arm  caressingly  about  the  girl,  whose 
head  drooped  on  the  motherly  bosom  overflowing  with 
sympathy.  Only  the  semi-tropical  sounds  of  night  broke 
the  stillness.  The  darkness  was  relieved  by  occasional 
flashes  along  the  horizon  from  a  distant  thunder-shower. 


SAD    TIDINGS  305 

Miss  Lou  thought,  *' Have  I  ever  known  a  peace  so  deep 
and  sweet  as  this?'* 

There  was  a  hasty,  yet  stealthy  step  along  the  hall  to 
the  door,  yet  the  girl  had  no  presentiment  of  evil.  The 
warm,  brooding,  fragrant  darkness  of  the  night  was  not 
more  undisturbed  than  her  mind. 

**Miss  Lou,"  said  Zany  in  a  loud  whisper.        v    >       r - 1  r 

What  a  shock  came  with  that  brief  utterance!  A  flash 
of  lightning  direct  from  the  sky  coald  not  have  produced 
such  sudden  dread  and  presentiment  of  trouble.  Truly,  a 
woman  listens  more  with  her  heart  than  her  ears,  and  even 
in  Zany's  whisper  there  was  detected  a  note  of  tragedy. 

After  an  instant  Miss  Lou  faltered,  *'What  is  it.  Zany  ?" 

*'Ef  you  gwine  ter  yo'  room  soon  I  des  he'p  you 
undress." 

How  well  the  girl  knew  that  the  faithful  slave  meant 
other  and  less  prosaic  help  I  She  rose  at  once,  kissed  Mrs. 
Waldo  good-night  and  excused  herself.  When  Zany  had 
lighted  the  candle  her  scared,  troubled  face  revealed  at 
once  that  she  had  tidings  of  dire  import. 

Miss  Lou  seized  the  girl  with  a  grip  which  hurt  her  arm, 
demanding,  "Have  you  heard  anything  about — about  Lieu- 
tenant Scoville?" 

"Now,  Miss  Lou,  you  gotter  be  brabe  en  not  look  at  me 
dat  away.  Kaze  ef  you  does,  w'at  I  gwine  ter  do?  I  kyant 
Stan'  it  nohow." 

**OhI  oh!"  Miss  Lou  gasped,  **wait  a  moment,  not  yet — 
wait.  I  must  get  breath.  I  know,  I  know  what's  coming. 
Chunk  is  back  and — and — O  God,  I  can't  bear  it,  I  cannot, 
I  cannot  I" 

"Dar  now.  Miss  Lou,  des  lis'n.  P'raps  tain  ez  bad  ez 
you  tink.  P'raps  w'en  Chunk  'splain  all  you  see  tain 
ez  bad.  Hi!  Miss  Lou,  you  musn't  took  on  so,"  for  the 
girl  was  wringing  her  hands  and  rocking  back  and  forth  in 
agony.  "Folks  s'picion  dat  Chunk  yere-  en  dat  ud  be  de 
eend  ob  him,  sho.  He  ain'  seen  Marse  Scoville  daid  sho. 
He  on'y  see  'im  fall.     Chunk  wan  ter  see  you  en  he  mighty 


306  ''MISS   LOU" 

skeery  'bout  hit,  kaze  ef  Perkins  get  on  he  track  he  done 
fer.  He  ain'  see  he  granny  yit  en  he  darsn't  come  dar  twel 
hit  late.  He  larn  ter  toot  lak  a  squinch-owl  frum  Marse 
Scoville  en  he  tole  me  dat  when  he  come  agin  he  toot.  I 
nigh  on  run  my  legs  ofi  follerin'  up  tootin's  o'  nights,  fer 
dey  wuz  on'y  pesky  squinch-owls  arter  all.  Dis  eb'nin'  I 
year  a  toot  dat  flutter  my  heart  big  en  I  knowed  'twuzn't 
no  squinch-owl  dis  time,  sho,"  and  so  Zany  ran  on  in  her 
canny  shrewdness,  for  she  perceived  she  was  gaining  Miss 
Lou's  attention  and  giving  time  for  recovery  from  the 
blow. 

Miss  Lou  had  a  despairing  conviction  that  Chunk  would 
not  have  returned  alone  unless  his  master  was  dead,  but  her 
mind  quickly  seized  upon  the  element  of  uncertainty  and 
she  was  eager  to  see  the  negro. 

"We  mus'  wait,  we  sut'ny  mus',  twel  Chunk  kin  creep 
ter  he  granny's  cabin." 

"1  can't  wait.  Zany.  It  wouldn't  be  best,  either  for  me 
or  Chunk.  It's  not  very  late  yet,  and  I  could  visit  Aun' 
Jinkey  without  exciting  remark  if  you  go  with  me.  It's 
too  dark  for  Chunk  to  be  seen  and  I'd  protect  him  with  my 
life.  I  must  get  better  ground  for  hope  or  my  heart  will 
break.  Pretend  I  wish  a  glass  of  water  and  see  if  we  can't 
slip  out  now." 

This  Zany  did,  discovering  that  Mrs.  Baron  was  with 
her  husband  in  his  office  and  that  Mrs.  Waldo  had  returned 
to  her  son's  room. 

In  a  few  moments  Miss  Lou  was  sitting  by  Aun'  Jinkey 
and  tremblingly  telling  her  fears.  Meanwhile  Zany  scouted 
around  to  insure  immunity  from  observation. 

"You  po',  po'  chile!"  groaned  Aun'  Jinkey.  "I  wuz 
a-hopin'  dat  now  you  hab  a  time  ob  peace  en  quietness, 
en  you  des  gwine  ter  be  s'pended  'twixt  hebin  en  yearth." 

*'0h,  I  fear  he's  dead,  my  heart  tells  me  he's  dead.  Oh, 
mammy,  mammy,  how  can  God  be  so  cruel  ?  I  don't  know 
who  caused  this  war  or  who's  to  blame,  but  I  feel  now  as  if 
I  could  torture  them. ' ' 


SAD    TIDINGS  307 

"I'se  feared  dat  ain'  de  right  speret,  honey." 

"How  can  one  have  the  right  spirit  when  mocked  by 
such  a  hope  as  I've  had?  It  needn't  have  happened.  Oh, 
Mrs.  Waldo,  I  could  tell  you  now  I'm  no  Christian  at  all. 
I  say  it  needn't  have  happened.  And  then  think  how 
Uncle  Lusthah  prayed!" 

"Chunk  down  dar  by  de  run,  Miss  Lou,"  whispered 
Zany.     "I  lis'n  wid  all  my  years  en  eyes." 

"Miss  Lou,  I'se  yere  in  de  shadder  ob  dis  bush,"  Chunk 
called  softly. 

"Tell  me  everything." 

"Darsn't  twel  I  feels  mo'  safe.  Miss  Lou.  Kin  on'y  say 
now  Marse  Scoville  des  dote  on  you  en  he  ax  questions 
'bout  you  sence  you  lil  gyurl.  Hun'erds  ob  times  he  say, 
'Chunk,  we  go  back  some  day,  sho!'  But  he  do  he  duty 
brabe.  I  go  wid  'im  ev'ywhar  en  onst,  des  on  de  aige  ob 
night,  he  wuz  ridin'  long  wid  'bout  twenty  ob  he  men  en 
dis  ting  happen.  We  didn't  tink  any  Kebs  roun'  en  I'd 
been  kep'  back  tryn'  ter  git  a  chicken  fer  mars' r's  supper. 
Ez  I  riz  a  hill,  ridin'  right  smart  I  see  our  folks  goin'  easy 
en  car' less  inter  a  woods.  I  seed  'em  all  ez  plain  ez  eber 
see  anybody,  en  Marse  Scoville  ride  at  de  haid.  Sudden 
dere  was  flash,  flash,  bang,  bang,  all  troo  de  woods.  Marse 
Scoville  fell  right  off  he  hoss,  he  sut'ny  did.  Den  lots  ob 
Johnnies  run  in  de  road  fore  en  hind  our  mens.  I  see  dere 
wuz  no  chaince  fer  me  ter  do  any  ting  but  git  away  en  lil 
chaince  fer  dat,  fer  two  Rebs  on  horses  come  tarin'  arter 
me.  Ef  hit  hadn't  come  dark  sudden  en  my  hoss  wuzn't  a 
flyer  I'se  been  cotched  sho.  'Fo'  de  Lawd,  Miss  Lou,  dat 
all  I  know." 

"He's  dead,"  said  the  girl  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"I  orful  feared  he  is.  Miss  Lou,"  assented  the  matter- 
of-fact  Chunk.  "De  Rebs  so  neah  w'en  dey  fiah,  en  Marse 
Scoville  sut'ny  did  go  off  he  hoss  sudden.  I  been  a  week 
gittin'  yere  en  I  neber  git  yere  ef  de  cuUud  people  didn't 
he'p  me  long  nights." 

The  girl  stood  silent  and  motionless.     Suddenly  Zany 


308  ''MISS   LOV" 

grasped  her  hand  and  whispered,  '*!  yeared  steps.  Come 
ter  de  cabin.     Be  off,  Chunk." 

They  had  scarcely  reached  Ann'  Jinkey's  door  before 
a  shadow  approached  and  the  harsh  voice  of  Perkins  asked, 
"  What's  goin'  on  yere?" 

"My  young  mistis  des  seein'  her  mammy  'bout  her 
clos,"  replied  the  quick-witted  Zany. 

"I  thought  I  yeared  voices  down  by  the  run." 

"Eeck'n  you  bettah  go  see,"  said  Zany  in  rather  high 
tones. 

"What  the  dev — what  makes  yer  speak  so  loud?  a 
warnin'  ?" 

"Tain'  my  place  ter  pass  wuds  wid  you,  Marse  Perkins. 
Dem  I  Serbs  doan  fin'  fault." 

"I  reckon  Mr.  Baron' 11  do  mo'n  find  fault  'fore  long.  I 
bettah  say  right  yere  en  now  I've  got  my  orders  'bout  that 
nigger  Chunk.  Nobody  kin  save  'im  ef  caught.  You've 
been  followed  before  in  your  night-cruisin'  en  you're  lookin* 
fer  some  one.  Ef  there's  trouble,  Miss  Baron  kyant  say  I 
didn't  give  warnin'.  Now  that  the  sogers  is  gone  I'm  held 
'sponsible  fer  what  goes  on,"  and  he  stalked  away. 

He  did  not  wish  to  come  into  an  open  collision  with  Miss 
Lou  again  if  he  could  help  it — not  at  least  while  the  Waldos 
remained.  He  had  concluded  that  by  a  warning  he  might 
prevent  trouble,  his  self-interest  inclining  him  to  be  con- 
servative. Confederate  scrip  had  so  lost  its  purchasing 
power  that  in  its  stead  he  had  recently  bargained  with 
Mr.  Baron  for  a  share  in  the  crops.  Thus  it  happened  that 
the  question  of  making  a  crop  was  uppermost  in  his  mind. 
Until  this  object  was  secured  he  feared  to  array  the  girl 
openly  against  him,  since  her  influence  might  be  essential 
in  controlling  the  negroes.  If  policy  could  keep  them  at 
work,  well  and  good;  if  the  harshest  measures  seemed  best 
to  him  he  was  ready  to  employ  them. 

Not  only  was  he  puzzled,  but  Zany  also  and  Aun'  Jinkey 
were  sore  perplexed  at  Miss  Lou's  silence.  She  had  stood 
motionless  and  unheeding  through  the  colloquy  with  the 


SAD    TIDINGS  309 

overseer,  and  now  remained  equally  deaf  and  unresponsive 
to  the  homely  expressions  of  sympathy  and  encouragement 
of  the  two  women.  They  could  not  see  her  face,  but 
quickly  felt  the  dread  which  anything  abnormal  inspires 
in  the  simple-minded.  Prone  to  wild  abandon  in  the  ex- 
pression of  their  own  strong  emotions,  the  silent,  motion- 
less figure  of  the  young  girl  caused  a  deeper  apprehension 
than  the  most  extravagant  evidences  of  grief. 

"Auu'  Jinkey,"  whispered  Zany,  "you  mus'  des  he'p 
me  git  her  to  her  room." 

She  went  with  them  without  word  or  sign.  Their  alarm 
was  deepened  when  they  saw  her  deathly  pale  and  almost 
rigid  features  by  the  light  of  her  candle. 

"Miss  Lou,  honey,  speak  ter  yo'  ole  mammy.  You 
b»oke  my  heart  w'en  you  look  dat  away." 

"1  tell  you  he's  dead,"  whispered  the  girl. 

"Dis  ter'ble,"  groaned  the  old  woman.  *'  'Fo'  de  Lawd 
I  dunno  w'at  er  do." 

Zany  felt  instinctively  that  the  girl  was  beyond  their 
simple  ministrations  and  she  was  desperately  afraid  that 
if  Mrs.  Baron  came  Chunk's  presence  would  be  revealed 
by  words  spoken  unconsciously.  She  and  Aun'  Jinkey 
promptly  agreed  that  Mrs.  Waldo  was  their  only  hope  and 
Zany  flew  to  summon  her. 

Fortunately  the  lady  had  not  retired  and  she  came  at 
once.  "Louise,  Miss  Baron,  what  is  the  matter?"  she 
asked  in  strong  solicitude. 

"I  tell  you,  he's  dead,"  again  whispered  the  girl,  look- 
ing as  if  a  scene  of  horror  were  before  her  eyes.  "The  Kebs 
were  so  near  when  they  fired,  and  he  fell  off  his  horse  sud- 
den.    Ch— " 

Quick  as  light  Zany's  hand  was  over  the  girl's  mouth. 
The  scared  face  and  trembling  form  of  the  young  negress 
did  not  escape  Mrs.  Waldo's  quick  eye. 

"Zany,  what  are  you  concealing?"  she  asked,  sternly. 
*'What  does  all  this  mean  ?" 

"Dar  now,  misus,"  answered  Aun'  Jinkey  with  a  certain 


310  ''MISS   LOU" 

simple  dignity,  **we  mus'  des  trus  you.  I'se  yea  red  you  a 
lubin'  serbent  ob  de  Lawd.  Ei  you  is,  you  ain'  gwine  ter 
bring  mis'ry  on  mis'ry.  We  mus'  brung  Miss  Lou  roun' 
sudden  'fo'  ole  miss  comes.  He'p  us  git  young  mistis 
sens'ble  en  I  tell  you  eberyting  1  kin.  Dere  ain'  *not'n 
bade  'bout  dis  honey  lam'  ob  mine." 

They  undressed  the  girl  as  if  she  were  a  helpless  child 
and  put  her  to  bed,  and  then  Zany  went  downstairs  to  keep 
Mrs.  Baron  out  of  the  way  if  possible,  at  the  same  time 
listening  intently  for  any  signs  of  trouble  to  Chunk. 

Miss  Lou's  over- taxed  mind  had  given  way,  or  rather 
was  enchained  by  a  spell  of  horror  to  the  scenes  presented 
all  too  vividly  in  Chunk's  bald  statement.  Her  nervous 
force  had  been  too  enfeebled  and  exhausted  to  endure  the 
shock  of  an  impression  so  tremendous  in  its  tragic  reality 
that  her  faculties  had  no  power  to  go  beyond  it.  Chunk's 
words  had  brought  her  to  a  darkening  forest  and  her  dead 
lover,  and  there  she  stayed. 

Seeing  how  unconscious  she  was  Aun'  Jinkey  whispered 
enough  in  explanation  to  enable  Mrs.  Waldo  to  comprehend 
the  girl's  condition. 

''We  must  make  her  sleep,"  said  the  lady  decisively, 
and  under  her  wise  ministrations  the  stricken  girl  soon 
looked  almost  as  if  she  were  dead.  Having  kindly  re- 
assured and  dismissed  Aun'  Jinkey,  Mrs.  Waldo  watched 
Miss  Lou  as  she  would  have  kept  vigil  with  one  of  her  own 
daughters. 


CONSPIRATORS  311 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

CONSPIRATORS 

PERKINS  was  very  ill  at  ease  that  night,  from  a  haunt- 
ing suspicion  that  Chunk  had  returned.  "Pesky 
nigger' 11  have  a  revolver,  too,  most  likely,  en  be 
crazy  ter  use  it!  Haint  been  'mong  them  cussed  Yanks 
fer  nothinM"  There  was  therefore  little  disposition  for  a 
night  hunt  after  one  who  knew  every  inch  of  the  region 
besides  being  as  stealthy  and  agile  as  a  cat.  The  blow 
from  which  his  head  still  ached  had  a  warning  significance. 
Coarse,  ignorant  and  superstitious,  he  was  an  easy  victim 
to  the  tormenting  fears  of  his  own  bad  conscience.  The 
graves  by  the  run  and  the  extemporized  cemetery  further 
away  had  even  greater  terrors  for  him  than  for  Aun' 
Jinkey.  Even  his  whiskey  jug  could  not  inspire  sufficient 
courage  to  drive  him  at  night  far  from  his  own  door. 
Though  both  hating  and  despising  Whately,  yet  the  ab- 
sence of  the  young  officer  and  his  force  was  now  deeply  re- 
gretted, as  they  had  lent  a  sense  of  security  and  maintained 
the  old  order  of  existing  authority.  Now  he  was  thrown 
chiefly  on  his  own  responsibility,  for  Mr.  Baron  was  broken 
and  enfeeled  by  what  he  had  passed  through.  Avarice 
spurned  Perkins  to  carry  through  the  crops  in  which  he 
had  an  interest,  while  his  hope  of  revenge  on  Chunk,  Sco- 
ville  and  Miss  Lou  also  tended  to  keep  him  at  a  post  which 
he  foresaw  would  be  one  of  difficulty  and  danger.  He  had 
no  doubt  that  the  Union  officer  and  his  freedman  would 
return  as  soon  as  they  could,  and  for  the  chance  of  wreaking 
his  vengeance  he  was  the  more  willing  to  remain  in  what  he 


312  ''MISS  LOU"* 

feared  would  be  a  spook-infested  region.  **Onst  squar  with 
them,  en  crops  realized,"  he  muttered,  *'I  kin  feel  mo' 
comft'ble  in  other  parts.  To-morrer,  ef  Chunk  en  that 
scout's  in  these  diggin's  I'll  know  hit." 

He  was  aware  that  the  few  dogs  left  on  the  plantation 
would  make  no  trouble  for  one  they  knew  as  well  as  they 
did  Chunk,  b*ut  he  could  rely  on  the  brute  which  he  kept 
in  his  own  quarters — a  bloodhound,  savage  to  every  one 
except  his  master. 

"Grip  will  smell  out  the  cussed  nigger  in  the  mawnin' 
ef  lie's  been  around,"  he  assured  himself  before  beginning 
his  nightly  debauch.  "What's  mo',  Miss  Baron  ain't  so 
high  en  mighty  now  she  knows  I'm  comin'  to  be  the  rale 
boss  on  the  place.  She  didn't  even  squeak  w'en  I  gin  my 
warnin'  ter  night." 

Although  Chunk  knew  his  danger  and  was  cautious,  he 
was  disposed  on  the  first  night  of  his  arrival  to  take  some 
serious  risks  in  order  to  carry  out  the  schemes  dwelt  upon 
during  the  long  days  of  skulking  home.  Naturally  fearless 
he  had  acquired  much  of  Scoville's  soldier-like  and  scout- 
ing spirit.  The  young  officer  had  associated  his  dwarfish 
follower  with  the  service  rendered  by  Miss  Lou  and  was 
correspondingly  grateful.  Chunk  therefore  received  much 
consideration  and  good  counsel  by  which  he  had  profited. 
Especially  had  Scoville  scoffed  at  the  negro's  superstitions, 
telling  him  that  a  fool  afraid  of  spooks  was  neither  fit  to  be 
a  free  man  nor  a  soldier. 

Since  Chunk  had  no  imagination  and  believed  absolutely 
in  his  master  there  were  no  more  "spooks"  for  him,  but  he 
knew  well  the  dread  inspired  by  that  word  on  the  planta- 
tion, and  it  was  his  purpose  to  avail  himself  of  these  deep- 
rooted  fears.  He  heard  the  colloquy  between  Zany  and  the 
overseer  very  distinctly,  but  so  far  from  running  away, 
dogged  the  latter  home.  Long  knife  and  revolver  were 
handy  in  his  belt  and  a  heavy  club  was  carried  also.  Since 
no  soldiers  were  around,  Perkins  was  not  to  be  dreaded  in 
the  night,  when  once  his  resting-place  was  known.    Crouch- 


CONSPIRATORS  'SI'S 

ing  a  long  time  in  tlie  shadow  of  some  cedars  Chunk  watched 
the  overseer*s  window,  but  the  light  was  not  extinguished. 
A  sudden  suspicion  dawned  on  our  watcher,  causing  him  to 
chuckle  low  with  delight.  "Hi!  he  des  feared  of  sleepin' 
in  de  dark,  en  dat  can'le  bu'n  all  night!"  Gliding  a  few 
steps  nearer  brought  to  the  quick  ear  a  resounding  snore, 
accompanied  with  a  warning  growl  from  the  bloodhound. 
''I  des  fix  'em  bof  fo'  I  froo,"  and  the  brawny  hand  clutched 
with  greater  force  the  heavy  club  it  carried. 

"Nex',  some  dem  fellers  mus'  be  tole  ter  he'p,"  and 
Chunk  crept  away  to  the  quarters.  It  was  an  easy  task  to 
waken  and  enlist  Jute,  well  known  to  be  one  of  the  most 
disaffected  and  fearless  among  the  hands.  The  two  started 
off  to  a  grove  which  none  could  approach  without  being 
seen,  and  had  a  long  whispered  consultation.  As  a  result. 
Jute  returned  to  the  quarters  and  brought  back  three  others 
whom  he  knew  would  enter  into  the  schemes  on  foot.  By 
midnight  Chunk  had  six  of  the  braver  and  more  reckless 
spirits  among  the  slaves  bound  to  him  by  such  uncouth 
oaths  as  he  believed  would  hold  them  most  strongly.  Then 
they  returned  to  their  cabins  while  the  chief  conspirator 
(after  again  reconnoitring  the  overseer's  cottage)  sought 
the  vicinity  of  his  granny's  home. 

With  mistaken  kindness  and  much  shrewdness  Chunk 
had  resolved  upon  a  course  that  would  fill  the  old  woman's 
life  with  terror.  He  adopted  the  policy  of  not  letting  her 
know  anything  of  his  plans,  so  that  she  could  honestly  say 
"I  dunno"  and  prove  the  fact  by  her  manner.  He  instinc- 
tively felt  that  it  would  have  a  very  bad  look  if  supersti- 
tious Aun'  Jinkey  remained  composed  and  quiet  through 
the  scenes  he  purposed  to  bring  about.  Her  sincere  and 
very  apparent  fears  were  to  be  his  allies.  It  was  part  of 
his  scheme  also  that  Zany  should  be  very  badly  frightened 
and  made  eager  to  run  away  with  him  as  soon  as  he  and  the 
others  were  ready  for  departure. 

By  a  preconcerted  signal  he  summoned  Aun'  Jinkey  who 
was  much  affected  by  the  thought  that  she  was  bidding  her 

Roe— IX— N 


S14  "MISS   LOU"* 

grandson  a  good-by  which  might  be  final,  but  oppressed 
with  fear,  she  was  at  the  same  time  eager  he  should  go. 
Putting  into  his  hands  a  great  pone  of  corn  bread  she 
urged,  "Des  light  out,  Chunk,  light  out  sud'n.  'Twix  de 
baid  news  en  Miss  Lou  en  w'at  Perkins  do  ef  he  ootch  you, 
I  des  dat  trembly,  I  kyant  stan'." 

"Perkins  asleep,  granny.  I'se  off  now  fer  good,  but  I 
comin'  back  fer  you  some  day. ' ' 

He  disappeared,  and  too  perturbed  to  think  of  sleep  the 
old  woman  tottered  back  to  her  chimney-corner.  A  few 
moments  later  she  shuddered  at  the  hooting  of  a  screech- 
owl,  even  though  she  surmised  Chunk  to  be  the  bird.  Not 
so  Zany,  who  answered  the  signal  promptly.  In  a  tentative 
way  Chunk  sought  to  find  if  she  was  then  ready  to  run 
away,  but  Zany  declared  she  couldn't  leave  Miss  Lou 
"lookin'  ez  if  she  wuz  daid."  Thinking  it  might  be  loDg 
indeed  before  she  saw  her  suitor  again,  she  vouchsafed  him 
a  very  affectionate  farewell  which  Chunk  remorselessly  pro- 
longed, having  learned  in  his  brief  campaigning  not  to 
leave  any  of  the  goods  the  gods  send  to  the  uncertainties 
of  the  future.  When  at  last  he  tore  himself  away,  he  mut- 
tered, "Speck  she  need  a  heap  ob  scarin'  en  she  git  all  she 
wants.  Bf  dat  ar  gyurl  doan  light  out  wid  me  nex'  time 
I  ax  her,  den  I  eats  a  mule."  And  then  Chunk  apparently 
vanished  from  the  scene. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Lou  awoke  feeble,  dazed  and  ill. 
In  a  little  while  her  mind  rallied  sufficiently  to  recall  what 
had  happened,  but  her  symptoms  of  nervous  prostration 
and  lassitude  were  alarming.  Mrs.  Whately  was  sent  for, 
and  poor  Mr.  Baron  learned,  as  by  another  surgical  opera- 
tion, what  had  been  his  share  in  imposing  on  his  niece  too 
severe  a  strain.  Mrs.  Waldo  whispered  to  Miss  Lou,  "Your 
mammy  has  told  me  enough  to  account  for  the  shock  you 
received  and  your  illness.     Your  secret  is  safe  with  me." 

Meantime  the  good  lady  thought,  "It  will  all  turn  out 
for  the  best  for  the  poor  child.  Such  an  attachment  could 
only  end  unhappily,  and  she  will  get  over  it  all  the  sooner 


CONSPIRATORS  315 

if  she  believes  the  Yankee  officer  dead.  How  deeply  her 
starved  nature  must  have  craved  sympathy  and  affection  to 
have  led  to  this  in  such  a  brief  time  and  opportunity!" 

As  may  be  supposed,  Aun'  Jinkey  had  been  chary  of 
details  and  had  said  nothing  of  Scoville's  avowal.  The 
mistress  of  the  plantation  looked  upon  her  niece's  illness 
as  a  sort  of  well  earned  "judgment  for  her  perversity,"  but 
all  the  same,  she  took  care  that  the  strongest  beef  tea  was 
made  and  administered  regularly.  Mrs.  Whately  arrived 
and  became  chief  watcher.  The  stricken  girl's  physical 
weakness  seemed  equalled  only  by  a  dreary  mental  apathy. 
There  was  scarcely  sufficient  vital  force  left  even  for  suffer- 
ing, a  fact  recognized  by  the  aunt  in  loving  and  remorseful 
solicitude. 

By  the  aid  of  his  bloodhound  Perkins  discovered  that 
some  one  whom  he  believed  to  be  Chunk  had  been  about, 
and  he  had  secret  misgivings  as  he  thought  of  the  negro's 
close  proximity.  He  had  already  learned  what  a  blow 
Chunk  could  deal  and  his  readiness  to  strike.  Taking  the 
dog  and  his  gun  he  had  cautiously  followed  the  run  into 
which  the  tracks  led  until  satisfied  that  the  man  he  was 
following  had  taken  horse  and  was  beyond  pursuit.  On 
his  return  he  learned  of  Miss  Lou's  illness  and  so  ventured 
to  threaten  Aun'  Jinkey. 

"Yer  do  know  'bout  that  cussed  grandson  o'  yourn. 
Kyaut  fool  Grip,  en  he'  smelled  out  all  the  nigger's  tracks. 
Now  ef  yer  don't  tell  the  truth  I'll  raise  the  kentry  'roun' 
en  we'll  hunt  'im  to  the  eends  of  the  yearth." 

"Well  den,  Marse  Perkins,"  admitted  the  terror-stricken 
woman,  "I  des  tell  you  de  truf.  Dat  gran 'boy  ob  min'  des 
come  ter  say  good- by.  Marse  Scoville  daid  en  Chunk  mos' 
up  Norf  by  dis  time,  he  went  away  so  sud'n." 

"That  Yankee  cuss  dead  ?"  cried  Perkins  in  undisguised 
exultation. 

"Marse  Scoville  daid,  shot  of'n  he  hoss  long  way  f'um 
yere,"  replied  Aun'  Jinkey  sorrowfully.  "He  kyant  harm 
you  ner  you  'im  no  mo',  ner  Chunk  neider." 


316  *'MISS   LOU" 

"Why  the  devil  didn't  you  let  us  know  Chunk  was  here 
las'  night?" 

"He  my  gran 'son,"  was  the  simple  reply. 

"Well  he  isn't  Zany's  grandson!  Now  I  know  w'at  she 
was  snoopin'  round  nights  fer,  en  Mrs.  Baron' 11  know,  too, 
'fore  I'm  five  minutes  older." 

Aun'  Jinkey  threw  up  her  hands  and  sank  back  into 
her  chair  more  dead  than  alive.  She,  too,  had  been  taxed 
beyond  endurance  and  all  her  power  to  act  had  ceased  with  her 
final  effort  to  show  that  pursuit  of  Chunk  would  be  useless. 

Perkins  speedily  obtained  an  audience  with  Mrs.  Baron, 
who  became  deeply  incensed  and  especially  against  Zany. 
The  inexorable  old  lady,  however,  never  acted  from  pas- 
sion. She  nodded  coldly  to  the  overseer,  saying,  "I  will 
inform  Mr.  Baron  and  he  will  give  you  your  orders  in  re- 
gard to  the  offenders. ' ' 

Zany  was  too  alert  not  to  observe  the  interview  and  the 
omens  of  trouble  in  the  compressed  lips  of  "ole  miss"  and 
the  steel-like  gleam  of  her  eyes.  The  moment  Mrs.  Baron 
was  closeted  with  her  husband  the  girl  sped  to  the  cabin, 
'y) id  you  tell  Perkins  Chunk  been  yere?"  she  demanded 
fiercely. 

"Fo'  de  Lawd  I  des  gwine  all  ter  pieces,"  gasped  Aun' 
Jinkey. 

"Hope  ter  grashus  yer  does,  en  de  pieces  neber  come 
tergedder  agin, ' '  said  Zany  in  contemptuous  anger  and  deep 
alarm. 

Under  the  spur  of  tremendous  excitement  she  hastened 
back,  thinking  as  she  ran,  "Miss  Lou  too  sick  ter  do  any- 
ting.  I  des  got  ter  'peal  ter  Miss  Whately,  er  ole  miss  hab 
me  whipped  haf  ter  daith."  When,  in  response  to  a  timid 
knock  Mrs.  Whately  peered  out  of  her  niece's  room  she 
found  a  trembling  suppliant  with  streaming  eyes.  Noise- 
lessly shutting  the  door  the  matron  said  warningly: 

"Don't  you  know  Miss  Lou's  life  depends  on  quiet?" 

"How  she  gwine  ter  hab  quiet  w'en  ole  miss  gwine  ter 
hab  Marse  Perkins  whip  me'n  Aun'  Jinkey  ter  daith?" 


CONSPIRATORS  317 

"Nonsense  !  Why  should  either  of  you  be  pun- 
ished?" 

"  Well  missus,  I  'fess  ter  you,"  sobbed  Zany,  '*kaze  you 
got  more  feelin'  fer  us.  Chunk  come  las'  night  ter  say 
good-by  ter  he  granny' n  me,  en  den  he  put  out  fer  good, 
en  ain'  comin'  back  no  mo'.  Perkins  en  he  dog  foun'  hit 
out  dis  mawnin',  en  Aun'  Jinkey  tole  'im,  too,  I  reck'n, 
slae  all  broke. up.  Perkins  been  talkin'  ter  ole  miss  en  she 
look  lak  she  al'ways  does  w'en  ders  no  let  up.  Hit  ud  des 
kill  Miss  Lou  if  she  knew  me'n  Aun'  Jinkey  wuz  bein' 
whipped." 

*'Zany,"  said  Mrs.  Whately  in  rising  anger,  "you  both 
had  full  warning.  You  knew  what  Chunk  had  done.  He 
stole  my  son's  horse  and  one  from  his  master  also,  beside 
doing  other  things  that  could  not  be  forgiven." 

"Please  reckermember,  missus,  dat  Chunk  en  me  is 
mighty  sweet  on  each  oder  en  he  Aun'  Jinkey  gran'boy. 
Tain'  dat  we  'prove  of  his  goin's  on,  but  how  cud  we  tell 
on  'im  en  see  'im  daid,  w'en  he  des  come  ter  say  good-by. 
Oh,  ef  Miss  Lou  on'y  well  she  neber  let  dat  ole  Perkins 
tech  us." 

"I  will  see  your  master  before  anything  is  done,"  said 
Mrs.  Whately  with  troubled  face.  "Go  to  your  work 
now.  I  will  get  Mrs.  Waldo  to  watch  in  my  place  after 
a  while." 

Mr.  Baron  was  depressed  physically  and  mentally  by  the 
trying  events  of  the  past  few  weeks,  but  the  fact  that  Chunk 
had  ventured  on  the  place  again  and  had  been  permitted  to 
escape  angered  him  deeply.  He  also  accepted  the  view  of 
his  wife  and  overseer  that  all  discipline  among  the  slaves 
would  soon  be  at  an  end  if  so  serious  an  offence  were  over- 
looked. It  would  be  a  confession  of  weakness  and  fear  they 
believed  which  would  have  a  most  demoralizing  effect  in 
the  quarters.  Chunk  represented  the  worst  offences  of  which 
the  slaves  could  be  guilty;  the  most  solemn  warnings  had 
been  given  against  aiding  and  abetting  him  in  any  way. 
To  do  nothing  now  would  be  a  virtual  permission  of  law- 


818  "MISS   LOU'* 

lessness.  There  was  no  thought  of  mercy  for  Zany,  but 
Aun'  Jinkey's  age,  feebleness,  together  with  her  relations 
to  Chunk  and  Miss  Lou,  complicated  matters. 

Husband  and  wife  were  still  consulting  when  Mrs. 
Whately  joined  them.  Mrs.  Baron  did  not  welcome  her 
guest,  feeling  that  this  was  purely  a  personal  affair,  and 
was  in  no  mood  to  brook  interference. 

"I  can't  be  absent  long,"  began  Mrs.  Whately,  "Zany 
has  told  me  everything  and — ' ' 

"I  think,  sister,  that  Mr.  Baron  and  I  can  manage  this 
matter,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Baron  coolly. 

"No  doubt  you  can,"  Mrs.  Whately  replied  with  dignity. 
"I  did  not  come  down  to  interfere  with  your  domestic  affairs. 
There  is  one  point  on  which  I  have  a  right  to  speak  and 
must  speak.  You  can't  punish  Aun'  Jinkey  and  Zany  now 
if  knowledge  of  such  punishment  can  in  any  way  reach  our 
niece.  No  matter  how  much  they  may  deserve  it,  I  say  you 
cannot  do  it.  I  promised  Zany  nothing,  held  out  no  hope 
to  her  of  escape,  but  to  you  I  will  speak  plainly.  If  you 
should  excite  and  disturb  Louise  now,  you  might  easily 
cause  her  death.  If  you  feel  that  you  cannot  overlook  the 
offence  (and  I  know  how  serious  a  one  it  is)  wait  till  I  can 
remove  Louise  to  my  own  house.  You  will  find  that  Dr. 
Pelton  when  he  arrives  will  confirm  my  words. " 

Mr.  Baron  weakened.  He  had  not  the  relentless  will  of 
his  wife,  who  interposed  with  cutting  emphasis,  "There  is 
no  need  of  Louise's  knowing  anything  about  it  till  she 
is  much  better,  and  it  would  be  well  for  her  to  learn  then, 
as  well  as  the  slaves,  that  there  is  still  a  master  and 
mistress." 

"It  may  be  long  before  Louise  is  much  better,"  Mrs. 
Whately  replied  gravely.  "She  has  been  subjected  to  a 
strain  for  which  my  conscience  reproaches  me,  however  it 
may  be  with  yours.  She  is  in  a  very  critical  state,  and 
seemingly  from  some  recent  shock." 

"Can  the  news  Chunk  brought  have  had  any  such 
effect?"   broke   forth   Mrs.    Baron   indignantly— "news  of 


CONSPIRATORS  819 

the  death  of  that  Yankee  whom  she  met  and  treated  as 
a  social  equal  sorely  against  my  will?" 

"Lieutenant  Scoville  dead!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Whately 
looking  shocked  and  sad. 

"Yes,  so  Chunk  told  his  granny." 

Mrs.  Whately  was  troubled  indeed.  Perhaps  there  had 
been  much  more  than  she  had  suspected.  If  so,  this  fact 
would  account  for  the  girl's  extreme  prostration.  To  bring 
these  tidings  might  have  been  one  of  Chunk's  chief  motives 
in  venturing  on  his  brief  visit.  Miss  Lou  might  know  all 
about  the  visit  and  even  have  seen  Chunk  herself.  If  this 
were  true,  punishment  of  those  who  were  in  a  sense  her  ac- 
complices would  be  all  the  more  disastrous.  The  perplexed 
matron  felt  that  she  must  have  more  time  to  think  and  to 
acquire  fuller  knowledge  of  the  affair. 

"Brother,"  she  said  finally,  *'you  are  the  guardian  of 
Louise  and  in  authority.  She  is  now  helpless  and  at  pres- 
ent quiet.  If  quiet  of  mind  and  body  can  be  maintained 
long  enough  she  will  no  doubt  get  well.  In  a  sense  I  am 
now  her  physician,  and  I  say  as  Surgeon  Ackley  said  of  his 
patients,  she  cannot  be  disturbed.  I  positively  forbid  it. 
Dr.  Pelton  who  must  soon  be  here  will  take  the  same 
ground.  Public  opinion  will  support  him  and  me  in  hold- 
ing you  responsible  if  you  order  anything  endangering  your 
ward's  life  and  health  at  this  time.  Mrs.  Waldo  and  her  son 
would  be  witnesses.  How  far  the  former  is  acquainted  with 
affairs  we  do  not  know.  She  watched  with  Louise  all  last 
night.  If  you  act  hastily  you  may  be  sorry  indeed.  I  am 
trying  kindness  and  conciliation  with  my  people  and  they 
are  doing  better.  I  fear  your  policy  is  mistaken.  Chunk 
is  gone  and  beyond  punishment.  It  is  asking  much  to  ex- 
pect that  his  grandmother  and  the  girl  who  loves  him  after 
her  fashion  would  give  information  against  him.  It  would 
seem  that  only  the  two  slaves  and  Perkins  know  of  this 
visit.  Affairs  are  bad  enough  with  you  as  it  is  and  you 
can  easily  make  them  much  worse.  If  you  must  punish 
for  effect,  take  some  stout  field  hand  wno  is  insubordinate 


S20  '*MISS   LOU" 

or  lazy.  At  any  rate  I  love  Louise  and  hope  some  day  to 
call  her  daughter,  and  I  will  not  have  her  life  endangered. 
That's  all  I  have  to  say." 

Mr.  Baron's  flame  of  anger  had  died  out.  His  views  had 
not  been  changed  by  his  harsh  experience,  but  he  had  been 
compelled  to  see  that  there  were  times  when  he  could  not 
have  his  own  way.  So  he  said  testily,  "Well,  well,  we'll 
have  to  let  the  matter  rest  a  while,  I  suppose." 

Mrs.  Whately  departed.  Mrs.  Baron  put  her  thin  lips 
together  in  a  way  which  meant  volumes,  and  went  out  on 
her  housekeeping  round,  giving  orders  to  Zany  in  sharper, 
more  metallic  tones  than  usual.  The  delinquent  herself  had 
overheard  enough  of  the  conversation  to  learn  that  the  evil 
day  had  at  least  been  put  o£E  and  to  get  some  clew  as  to  the 
future. 


CHUNK   PLAYS   SPOOK  821 


CHAPTEK  XXXI 7 

CHUNK     PLAYS     SPOOK 

SINCE  Mr.  Baron  had  yielded  for  the  present,  Mrs. 
Whately  was  glad  nothing  need  be  said  to  the  phy- 
sician concerning  their  affairs.  His  positive  injunc- 
tion of  quiet  was  sufficient,  and  now  that  Mr.  Baron  was 
impressed  with  its  need  and  had  had  time  for  sober  second 
thought,  he  concluded  that  he  had  trouble  enough  on  hand 
as  it  was.  He  felt  that  every  quiet  day  gained  was  so  much 
toward  securing  the  absolutely  essential  crops.  Perkins  was 
therefore  summoned  and  the  situation  in  part  explained. 

The  overseer  was  in  unusual  good-humor  over  the  death 
of  Scoville,  and  if  Chunk  had  escaped  finally,  there  was 
compensation  in  the  thought  of  having  no  more  disturbance 
from  that  source.  So,  fortunately  for  poor  Zany,  avarice 
came  to  the  fore  and  Perkins  agreed  that  the  best  thing 
to  do  was  to  bend  every  energy  to  * 'making  the  crops," 
using  severity  only  in  the  furtherance  of  this  end. 

"Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Baron,  but  I  must  have  sump'n  up 
and  down  clar.  There's  been  so  many  bosses  of  late  en  my 
orders  been  knocked  eendwise  so  of 'en  that  I  don't  know, 
en  the  hands  don't  know  whether  I've  got  any  po'r  or  no. 
Ef  this  thing  'bout  Chunk  gits  out,  en  nobody  punished, 
the  fiel'-hans  natchelly  think  we  darsn't  punish.  Mought 
es  well  give  up  then." 

"Punish  as  much  as  you  think  necessary  to  keep  tfle 
quarter- hands  at  work.  Then  it  is  plain,"  replied  Mr. 
Baron. 

Very  seldom  had  Perkins  been  in  so  complacent  and 


822  **M1SS  LOU"* 

exultant  a  mood  as  when  he  left  the  presence  of  Mr.  Baron 
that  morning.  But  his  troubles  began  speedily.  Jute  had 
slept  little  the  night  before  and  was  stupid  and  indifferent 
to  his  work  in  the  afternoon.  Finding  threats  had  little 
effect,  the  overseer  struck  a  blow  with  his  cane.  The  negro 
turned  fiercely  but  was  confronted  with  a  revolver.  He  re- 
sumed work  doggedly,  his  sullen  look  spreading  like  the 
shadow  of  a  cloud  to  the  faces  of  the  others.  So  many 
began  to  grow  indifferent  and  reckless  that  to  punish  all 
was  out  of  the  question.  Perkins  stormed  and  threatened, 
striking  some  here  and  there,  almost  beside  himself  from 
increasing  anxiety  and  rage.  Whichever  way  he  turned  a 
dark  vindictive  face  met  his  eyes.  The  slaves  had  enjoyed 
a  brief  sense  and  sweet  hope  of  freedom;  he  was  seeking  to 
refasten  the  yoke  with  brutal  hands  and  it  galled  as  never 
before.  Even  his  narrow  arbitrary  nature  was  impressed 
with  the  truth  that  a  great  change  was  taking  place;  that 
a  proclamation  issued  hundreds  of  miles  away  was  more 
potent  than  his  heavy  hand.  He  was  as  incapable  of  any 
policy  other  than  force  as  was  his  employer  of  abandoning 
the  grooves  in  which  his  thoughts  had  always   run. 

The  worrisome  afternoon  finally  ended,  leaving  the 
harassed  man  free  to  seek  consolation  from  his  jug.  Mr. 
Baron  relapsed  into  his  quiet  yet  bitter  mental  protest. 
"Ole  miss"  maintained  inexorable  discipline  over  the  yard 
and  house  slaves,  keeping  all  busy  in  removing  every  stain 
and  trace  of  the  hospital.  She  governed  by  fear  also,  but 
it  was  the  fear  which  a  resolute,  indomitable  will  produces 
in  weaker  natures. 

Mrs.  Waldo  already  felt  uncomfortable.  There  was  no 
lack  of  outward  courtesy,  but  the  two  women  had  so  little 
in  common  that  there  was  almost  a  total  absence  of  sympa- 
thy between  them.  The  guests  through  the  fortune  of  war 
resolved  therefore  to  depart  in  a  day  or  two,  making  the 
journey  home  by  easy  stages.  Mrs.  Whately  was  both 
polite  and  cordial,  but  she  also  felt  that  the  family  should 
be  alone  as  soon  as  possible,  that  they  were  facing  problems 


CHUNK   PLAYS   SPOOK  323 

which  could  better  be  solved  without  witnesses.  It  was  her 
hope  now  to  nurse  her  charge  back  to  health,  and,  by  the 
utmost  exercise  of  tact,  gain  such  an  ascendency  over  the 
girl  as  to  win  her  completely.  Granting  thali  the  matron's 
effort  was  part  of  a  scheme,  it  was  one  prompted  by  deep 
affection,  a  yearning  to  call  her  niece  daughter  and  to  pro- 
vide for  the  idolized  son  just  the  kind  of  wife  believed  to 
be  essential  to  his  welfare.  Much  pondering  on  the  matter 
led  her  to  believe  that  even  if  the  tidings  of  Scoville's  death 
had  been  the  cause  of  the  final  prostrating  shock,  it  was  but 
the  slight  blow  required  to  strike  down  one  already  feeble 
and  tottering  to  her  fall.  "He  probably  made  a  strong,  but 
necessarily  a  passing  impression  on  the  dear  child's  mind," 
she  reasoned.  "When  she  gets  well  she  will  think  of  him 
only  as  she  does  of  the  other  Union  soldiers  who  so  inter- 
ested her." 

The  object  of  this  solicitude  was  docile  and  quiet,  taking 
what  was  given  her,  but  evidently  exhausted  beyond  the 
power  of  thought  or  voluntary  action. 

The  night  passed  apparently  without  incident,  but  it  was 
a  busy  one  for  Chunk.  He  again  summoned  Jute  and  his 
other  confederates  to  a  tryst  in  the  grove  to  impress  them 
with  his  plans.  It  was  part  of  his  scheme  to  permit  a  few 
nights  to  pass  quietly  so  that  disturbances  would  not  be 
associated  with  him,  he  being  supposed  far  away.  In  the 
depths  of  the  adjacent  forest  he  had  found  safe  shelter  for 
himself  and  horse,  and  here,  like  a  beast  in  its  lair,  he  slept 
by  day.  The  darkness  was  as  light  to  him  about  the  famil- 
iar plantation,  and  he  prowled  around  at  night  unmolested. 

During  this  second  meeting  he  attempted  little  more  than 
to  argue  his  dusky  associates  out  of  their  innate  fear  of 
spooks  and  to  urge  upon  them  patience  in  submitting  to 
Perkins's  rule  a  little  longer.  "I  des  tells  you,"  he  de- 
clared, "dey  ain'  no  spooks  fer  us!  Dere's  spooks  on'y 
fer  dem  w'at  kills  folks  on  de  sly- like.  Ef  ole  Perkins  come 
rarin'  en  tarin'  wid  his  gun  en  dawg,  I  des  kill  'im  ez  I  wud 
a  rattler  en  he  kyant  bodder  me  no  mo'^  but  ef  I  steal  on 


€^i  ''MISS   LOV 

'im  now  en  kill  'im  in  he  sleep  he  ghos  pester,  me  ter  daith. 
Dat  de  conslomeration  ob  de  hull  business.  I  doan  ax  you 
ter  do  any  ting  but  he'p  me  skeer'  im  mos'  ter  daith.  He 
watchin'  lak  a  61e  fox  ter  ke'p  you  en  Zany  yere.  Ef  you 
puts  out,  he  riz  de  kentry  en  put  de  houn's  arter  you.  We 
des  got  ter  skeer  'im  off  fust.  I'm  studyin'  how  ter  git  dat 
dawg  out'n  de  way.  Des  go  on  quiet  few  mo'  days  en  ef 
you  year  quar  noises  up  on  de  hill  whar  de  sogers  bur'ed 
you  know  hit  me.  Look  skeered  lak  de  oders  but  doan  be 
fear'd  en  keep  mum." 

The  next  few  days  and  nights  passed  in  quiet  and  all 
began  to  breathe  more  freely.  Even  Aun'  Jinkey  rallied 
under  the  soothing  influence  of  her  pipe  and  the  privilege 
of  watching  part  of  each  day  with  Miss  Lou.  Slowly  the 
girl  began  to  grow  better.  Hoping  not  even  for  tolerance 
of  her  feelings  in  regard  to  Scoville,  it  was  her  instinct  to 
conceal  them  from  her  relatives.  She  knew  Mrs.  Waldo 
would  not  reveal  what  Aun'  Jinkey  had  told  her,  and  un- 
derstood the  peculiar  tenderness  with  which  that  lady  often 
kissed  her.  She  also  guessed  that  while  the  stanch  South- 
ern friend  had  deep  sympathy  for  her  there  was  not  very 
strong  regret  that  the  affair  had  ended  in  a  way  to  preclude 
further  complications. 

"Remember,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Waldo,  in  her  affec- 
tionate parting,  "that  God  never  utterly  impoverishes  our 
lives.  Only  we  ourselves  can  do  that.  You  will  get  well 
and  become  happy  in  making  others  happy." 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  even  Mr.  Baron's  routine 
was  completely  restored.  His  larder  was  meagre  compared 
with  the  past,  but  with  the  exception  that  Mrs.  Whately  oc- 
cupied the  place  of  his  niece  at  the  table,  and  viands  were 
fewer,  all  was  as  it  had  been.  Zany's  fears  had  subsided, 
leaving  her  inwardly  chafing  at  the  prospect  of  monotonous 
and  indefinite  years  of  work  under  "ole  miss,"  with  little 
chance  of  Chunk's  return.  Aun'  Suke's  taste  of  freedom 
had  not  been  to  her  mind,  so  she  was  rather  complacent 
than  otherwise,  and  especially  over  the  fact  that  there  was 


CHUNK   PLAYS   SPOOK  32ft 

SO  little  to  cook.  The  garden  and  Mr.  Baron^s  good  credit 
would  insure  enough  plain  food  till  the  crops  matured  and 
the  impoverishment  caused  by  the  raid  was  repaired.  It 
certainly  seemed  when  the  sun  set  that  evening  that  the 
present  aspect  of  affairs  might  be  maintained  indefinitely 
in  the  little  community. 

Only  one  was  not  exactly  at  rest.  Perkins  felt  as  if 
something  was  in  the  air.  There  was  a  brooding,  sullen 
quiet  among  the  negroes  which  led  him  to  suspect  that  they 
were  waiting  and  hoping  for  something  unknown  to  him. 
This  was  true  of  Uncle  Lusthah  and  the  majority.  The 
crack  of  Union  rifles  was  the  "soun'  f'um  far  away"  they 
were  listening  for.  By  secret  channels  of  communication 
tidings  of  distant  battles  were  conveyed  from  plantfe.tion  to 
plantation,  and  the  slaves  were  often  better  informed  that 
their  masters.  As  for  Perkins,  he  knew  next  to  nothing  of 
what  was  taking  place,  nor  did  he  dream  that  he  was  daily 
addressing  harsh  words  to  conspirators  against  his  peace. 

The  time  had  come  when  Chunk  was  ready  to  act.  On 
the  night  in  question  a  hot  wind  arose  which  blew  from  the 
little  burial-place  on  the  hill  toward  the  house.  *'Hi!  now's 
de  charnce  ter  ^x  dat  ar  bizness!"  and  he  made  his  prepara- 
tions. Shortly  before  midnight  he  crept  like  a  cat  under 
the  overseer's  window.  The  heavy  snoring  rose  and  fell 
reassuringly,  sweet  as  music  to  Chunk's  ears.  Not  so  tho 
angry,  restless  growling  of  the  savage  bloodhound  chained 
within.  "But  you  doan  kotch  me  dis  yere  time  fer  all  yer 
fuss,  Marse  Grip,"  the  negro  muttered.  '*!  done  hab  yer 
brekfus'  ready  fer  yer!  Dat'll  settle  yer  hash,'  and  with 
deft  hand  a  piece  of  poisoned  meat  was  tossed  close  to 
the  brute's  feet  as  Chunk  hastened  away.  Jute  was  next 
wakened  and  put  on  the  watch.  An  hour  later  there  came 
from  the  soldiers'  cemetery  the  most  doleful,  unearthly 
sounds  imaginable.  No  need  for  Jute  and  his  confederates 
to  arouse  the  other  negroes  in  the  quarters.  A  huddled 
frightened  gang  soon  collected,  Aun'  Jinkey  among  them 
so  scared  she  could  not  speak. 


326  ''MISS   LOW 

"Marse  Perkins  ought  to  know  'bout  dis,"  cried  Jute. 

The  suggestion  was  enough.  The  whole  terror-stricken 
throng  rushed  in  a  body  to  the  overseer's  cottage  and  began 
calling  and  shrieking,  "Come  out  yere!  come  out  yere!" 
Confused  in  his  sudden  waking  and  thinking  he  was 
mobbed,  he  shouted  through  the  window,  "I'll  shoot  a 
dozen  of  yer  ef  yer  don't  clar  out." 

"Marse  Perkins,  des  you  lis'n,"  rose  in  chorus  from 
those  far  beyond  the-  fear  of  mortal  weapons. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  the  rushing  wind  bore  down 
to  them  a  weird,  dismal  howl  that  in  Perkins's  ears  met 
every  ghostly  requirement.  His  teeth  began  to  chatter  like 
castanets,  and  snatching  his  jug  of  corn  whiskey  he  swal- 
lowed great  draughts. 

"We  des  tink  you  orter  know  'bout  dis,"  said  Jute. 

"Cert'ny,"  cried  Perkins  in  his  sudden  flame  of  false 
courage.  "I'll  light  a  lantern  and  take  twenty  o'  you  hands 
round  that  place.  Ef  thar's  a  cuss  yonder  makin'  this 
'stur banco  we'll  roast  'im  alive." 

In  a  moment  or  two  he  dressed  and  came  out  with  a  light 
and  his  gun.  Two  revolvers  were  also  stuck  in  his  belt. 
As  he  appeared  on  the  threshold  there  was  a  prolonged  yell 
which  curdled  even  his  inflamed  blood  and  sent  some  of  the 
negro  women  into  hysterics. 

"Come  on,"  shouted  the  overseer  hoarsely,  "thirty  of 
yer  ef  yer  afraid. ' ' 

The  crowd  fell  back.  "We  ain'  gwine  ter  dat  ar  spook 
place,  no  mattah  w'at  you  do  to  us." 

"Perkins,  what  is  the  matter?"  Mr.  Baron  was  heard 
shouting  from  the  house. 

"Reckon  you  better  come  out  yere,  sir." 

"Are  the  hands  making  trouble?" 

"No  sir,  sump'n  quar's  gwine  on,  what  we  kyant  mek 
out  y it." 

Mr.  Baron,  wrapped  in  his  dressing-gown,  soon  appeared 
on  the  scene,  while  Aun'  Suke's  domain  contributed  its 
quota  also  of  agitated,  half-dressed  forms.     Chunk  could 


CHUNK   PLAYS  SPOOK  BS^ 

not  resist  the  temptation  to  be  a  witness  to  the  scene  and 
in  a  copse  near  by  was  grinning  with  silent  laughter  at  his 
success. 

After  learning  what  had  occurred,  Mr.  Baron  scoffed  at 
their  superstitions,  sternly  bidding  all  to  go  to  their  places 
and  keep  quiet.  "Perkins,  you've  been  drinking  beyond 
reason,"  he  warned  his  overseer  in  a  low  voice.  "Get  back 
to  your  room  quick  or  you  will  be  the  laughing- stock  of 
everybody!  See  here,  you  people,  you  have  simply  got 
into  a  panic  over  the  howling  of  the  wind,  which  happens 
to  blow  down  from  the  graveyard  to-night." 

"Neber  yeared  de  win'  howl  dataway  befo',"  the  negroes 
answered,  as  in  a  mass  they  drifted  back  to  the  quarters. ' 

Perkins  was  not  only  aware  of  his  condition  but  was 
only  too  glad  to  have  so  good  an  excuse  for  not  searching 
the  cemetery.  Scarcely  had  he  been  left  alone,  however, 
before  he  followed  the  negroes,  resolved  upon  companion- 
ship of  even  those  ia  whom  he  denied  a  humanity  like  his 
own.  In  the  darkness  Chunk  found  an  opportunity  to  sum- 
mon Jute  aside  and  say,  "Free  er  fo'  ob  you  offer  ter  stay 
wid  ole  Perkins.     Thet  he'p  me  out." 

Perkins  accepted  the  offer  gladly,  and  they  agreed  to 
watch  at  his  door  and  in  the  little  hallway. 

"You  mus'  des  tie  up  dat  ar  dawg  obyourn,"  first  stipu- 
lated Jute. 

"Why,  whar  in is  the  dog  ?     Hain't  yeared  a  sound 

from  'im  sence  the  'sturbance  begun." 

"Dwags  kyant  stan'  spooks  nohow,"  remarked  Jute. 

"I've  yeared  that,"  admitted  Perkins,  looking  around 
for  the  animal. 

"Thar  he  is,  un'er  yo'  baid,"  said  Jute,  peeking  through 
the  doorway. 

The  miserable  man's  hair  fairly  stood  up  when  the  brute 
was  discovered  stark  and  dead  without  a  scratch  upon  him. 
Eecourse  was  again  had  to  the  jug,  and  oblivion  soon 
followed. 


828  ''MISS  LOU 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

A  VISITATION 

THERE  was  no  more  sleep  at  tlie  quarters  that  night, 
and  never  was  the  dawn  more  welcome.  It  only 
brought  a  respite,  however,  for  the  impression  was 
fixed  that  the  place  was  haunted.  There  was  a  settled 
aspect  of  gloom  and  anxiety  on  every  dusky  face  in  the 
morning.  Mr.  Baron  found  his  overseer  incapacitated  for 
duty,  but  the  hands  were  rather  anxious  to  go  to  work  and 
readily  obeyed  his  orders  to  do  so.  They  clung  to  all  that 
was  familiar  and  every-day-like,  while  their  fears  and 
troubled  consciences  spurred  them  to  tasks  which  they 
felt  might  be  a  sort  of  propitiation  to  the  mysterious 
powers  abroad.  Zany  was  now  sorry  indeed  that  she 
had  not  gone  with  Chunk,  and  poor  Aun'  Jinkey  so  shook 
and  trembled  all  day  that  Mrs.  Whately  would  not  let  her 
watch  by  Miss  Lou.  Knowing  much  of  negro  superstitions 
she  believed,  with  her  brother  and  Mrs.  Baron,  that  the 
graves  on  the  place,  together  with  some  natural,  yet  un- 
usual sounds,  had  started  a  panic  which  would  soon  die 
out. 

When  at  last  Perkins,  shaky  and  nervous,  reported  the 
mysterious  death  of  his  dog,  Mr.  Baron  was  perplexed,  but 
nothing  more.  "You  were  in  no  condition  to  give  a  sane 
account  of  anything  that  happened  last  night,"  he  said 
curtly.  "Be  careful  in  the  future.  If  you  will  only  be 
sensible  about  it,  this  ridiculous  scare  will  be  to  our  advan- 
tage, for  the  hands  are  subdued  enough  now  and  frightened 
into  their  duty." 


A    VISITATION  329 

Perkins  remained  silent.  In  truth,  he  was  more  fright- 
ened than  any  one  else,  for  the  death  of  his  dog  appeared  to 
single  him  out  as  a  special  object  of  ghostly  hostility.  He 
got  through  the  day  as  well  as  he  could,  but  dreaded  the 
coming  night  all  the  more  as  he  saw  eyes  directed  toward 
him,  as  if  he,  in  some  way,  were  the  cause  of  the  supernat- 
ural visitation.  This  belief  was  due  to  the  fact  that  Aun' 
Jinkey  in  her  terror  had  spoken  of  Scoville's  death,  al- 
though she  would  not  tell  how  she  knew  about  it.  "Per- 
kins shoot  at  en  try  ter  kill  Marse  Scoville, ' '  she  had  whis- 
pered to  her  cronies,  ''en  now  he  daid  he  spook  comin'  yere 
ter  hant  de  oberseer.  We  neber  hab  no  quiet  nights  till  dat 
ar  Perkins  go  way  fer  good. ' ' 

This  rational  explanation  passed  from  lip  to  lip  and  was 
generally  accepted.  The  coming  night  was  looked  forward 
to  in  deep  apprehension,  and  by  none  more  than  by  Per- 
kins. Indeed,  his  fears  so  got  the  better  of  him  that  when 
the  hands  quit  work  he  started  for  the  nearest  tavern  and 
there  remained  till  morning.  Chunk  was  made  aware  of 
this  fact,  and  the  night  passed  in  absolute  quiet.  All  the 
negroes  not  in  the  secret  now  hoped  that  the  overseer  was 
the  sole  prey  of  the  spook,  and  that  if  they  remained  quietly 
in  their  places  they  would  be  unmolested.  Chunk  and  a 
few  of  the  boldest  of  his  fellow  conspirators  had  full  scope 
therefore  to  perfect  their  final  arrangements.  In  a  disused 
room  of  one  of  the  outbuildings  the  most  ragged  and  blood- 
stained uniforms  of  the  Union  soldiers  had  been  cast  and 
forgotten.  These  were  carried  to  a  point  near  the  burying- 
ground,  tried  on  and  concealed.  Chunk  found  it  was  no 
easy  task  to  keep  even  the  reckless  fellows  he  had  picked 
up  to  the  sticking  point  of  courage  in  the  grewsome  tasks 
he  had  in  view,  but  his  scoff,  together  with  their  mutual 
aid  and  comfort,  carried  them  through,  while  the  hope  of 
speedy  freedom  inspired  them  to  what  was  felt  to  be  great 
risks. 

On  this  occasion  he  dismissed  them  some  little  time  be- 
fore midnight,  for  he  wished  them  to  get  rested  and  in  good 


3B0  ''MISS   LOV 

condition  for  what  he  hoped  would  be  the  final  effort  the 
following  night.  As  he  lingered  in  the  still,  starlit  dark- 
ness he  could  not  resist  making  an  effort  to  see  Zanj,  and 
so  began  hooting  like  an  owl  down  by  the  run,  gradually 
approaching  nearer  till  he  reached  the  garden.  Zany,  wake- 
ful and  shivering  with  nameless  dread,  was  startled  by  the 
sound.  Listening  intently,  she  soon  believed  she  detected 
a  note  that  was  Chunk's  and  not  a  bird's.  Her  first  impres- 
sion was  that  her  lover  had  discovered  that  he  could  not  go 
finally  away  without  her  and  so  had  returned.  Her  fear  of 
spooks  was  so  great  that  her  impulse  was  to  run  away  with 
Chunk  as  far  from  that  haunted  plantation  as  he  would  take 
her.  Trembling  like  a  wind-shaken  leaf,  she  stole  into  the 
garden  shrubbery  and  whispered,  "Chunk?" 

"Hi!  yerelis." 

There  was  no  tantalizing  coquetry  in  Zany's  manner 
now.  In  a  moment  she  was  in  Chunk's  arms  sobbing, 
"Tek  me  way  off  fum  dis  place.  I  go  wid  you  now,  dis 
berry  minute,  en  I  neber  breve  easy  till  we  way,  way  off 
enywhar,  I  doan  keer  whar.  Oh,  Chunk,  you  doan  know 
w'at  been  gwine  on  en  I  darsn't  tell  you  twel  we  gits 
way  off." 

"I  isn't  feared,"  replied  Chunk  easily. 

"Dat's  kaze  you  doan  know.  I  des  been  tremblin'  stiddy 
sence  las'  night  en  I'se  feared  hit  begin  eny  minute  now." 

"Hit  woan  begin  dis  yere  night,"  replied  Chunk,  sooth- 
ingly and  incautiously. 

"How  you  know?"  she  asked  quickly,  a  sudden  suspi- 
cion entering  her  mind. 

"Wat's  ter  begin?"  answered  Chunk,  now  on  his  guard. 
"De  night  am  still,  nobody  roun'.  I  hang  roun'  a  few  nights 
twel  I  study  out  de  bes'  plan  ter  git  away." 

"Has  you  been  hangin'  roun*  nights,  Chunk?"  Zany 
asked  solemnly. 

"How  you  talks,  Zany!  Does  you  s'pects  I  dar  stay 
roun'  whar  Perkins  am  ?  He  kill  me.  He  done  gone  way 
to-night." 


A    VISITATION  881 

*'How  you  know  dat?" 

''One  de  fiel'-hans  tole  me." 

*' Chunk,  ef  you  up  ter  shines  en  doan  tole  me  I  done 
wid  you.  Hasn't  I  hep  you  out'n  in  eberyting  so  fur  ?  Ef 
I  fin'  out  you  been  skeerin  me  so  wid  eny  doin's  I  des  done 
wid  you.  I  des  feel  hit  in  my  bones  you  de  spook.  You 
kyant  bamboozle  me.  I  kin  hep  you — hab  done  hit  afo' — 
en  I  kin  hinder  you,  so  be  keerful.  Dere's  some  dif'unce 
in  bein'  a  spook  yosef  en  bein'  skeered  ter  death  by  a  rale 
spook.  Ef  you  try  in'  ter  skeer  en  fool  me  I  be  wuss  on 
you  ner  eny  Voodoo  woman  dat  eber  kunjurd  folks." 

The  interview  ended  in  Chunk's  making  a  clean  breast 
of  it  and  in  securing  Zany  as  an  ally  with  mental  reserva- 
tions.    The  thought  that  he  had  fooled  her  rankled. 

Mr.  Baron's  expostulation  and  his  own  pressing  interests 
induced  Perkins  to  remain  at  home  the  following  night.  As 
Jute  had  seemed  forgiving  and  friendly,  the  overseer  asked 
him  to  bring  two  others  and  stay  with  him,  offering  some  of 
the  contents  of  the  replenished  jug  as  a  reward.  They  sat 
respectfully  near  the  door  while  Perkins  threw  himself  on 
his  bed  with  the  intention  of  getting  to  sleep  as  soon  as 
possible.  "Are  you  shore  ther  wuz  no  'sturbances  last 
night?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  Marse  Perkins,"  replied  Jute,  "you  didn't s'pect 
we  out  lookin'.  We  wuz  po'ful  sleepy  en  roll  we  haids  en 
er  blankets  en  den  'fo'  we  knowed,  hit  sun-up.  Folks  say 
en  de  quarters  dat  ar  spook  ain'  arter  us." 

' '  Who  the  devil  is  hit  arter  then  ?' '  was  the  angry  response. 

"How  we  know,  mars' r?  We  neber  try  ter  kill  eny- 
body." 

"But  I  tell  you  I  didn't  kill  him,"  expostulated  their 
nervous  victim. 

"Didn't  name  no  names,  Marse  Perkins.  I  on'y  knows 
w'at  I  yeared  folks  tell  'bout  spooks.  Dey's  mighty  cur' us, 
spooks  is.  Dey  des  'pear  to  git  a  spite  agin  some  folks  en 
dey  ain'  bodderin  oder  folks  long  ez  dey  ain'  'feered  wid. 
I  'spect  a  spook  dat  wuz  'feered  wid,  get  he  dander  up  en 


*'MISS   LOU'' 

slam  roun'  permiscus.  I  des  tek  a  ole  bull  by  de  horns  'fo' 
I  'fere  wid  a  spook,"  and  Jute's  companions  grunted  assent. 

"Wat's  the  good  o'  yer  bein'  yere  then  ?"  Perkins  asked, 
taking  a  deep  draught. 

"Well,  now,  Marse  Perkins,  you  mus'n  be  onreasonbul. 
Wat  cud  we  do?  We  des  riskin'  de  wool  on  we  haids 
stay  in'  yere  fer  comp'ny.  Ef  de  spook  come,  'spose  he  tink 
we  no  business  yere  en  des  lay  we  out  lak  he  kunjer  yo' 
dawg?  We  des  tank  you,  Marse  Perkins,  fer  anoder  lil 
drap  ter  kep  we  sperets  out'n  we  shoon,"  and  Jute  shud- 
dered portentously. 

"Well,"  said  Perkins,  with  attempted  bravado,  "I 
rammed  a  piece  o'  silver  down  on  the  bullat  in  my  gun. 
'Twix  'em  both—" 

"Dar  now,  Marse  Perkins,  you  des  been  'posed  on  'bout 
dat  silber  business.  Ole  Unc'  Sampson  w'at  libed  on  de 
Simcoe  place  nigh  on  er  hun'erd  yeahs,  dey  say,  tole  me 
lots  'bout  a  spook  dat  boddered  um  w'en  he  a  boy.  Way 
back  ole  Marse  Simcoe  shot  at  de  man  dat  hanker  fer  he 
darter.  De  man  put  out  en  get  drownded,  but  dat  doan 
make  no  dif 'rence,  Unc'  Sampson  say,  kaze  ole  Marse  Sim- 
coe do  he  bes'  ter  kill  der  man.  He  sorter  hab  kill  in  he 
heart  en  Unc'  Sampson  low  a  spook  know  w'at  gwine  on  in 
er  man's  in'erds,  en  dey  des  goes  fer  de  man  dat  wanter  kill 
um  on  de  sly,  en  not  dose  dat  kill  in  fa'r  fight.  Ole  Unc' 
Sampson  po'ful  on  spooks.  He  libed  so  long  he  get  ter  be 
sorter  spook  hesef,  en  dey  say  he  talk  ter  um  haf  de  time 
'fo'  he  kiner  des  snuf  out'n  lak  a  can'l. " 

"He  wuz  a  silly  old  fool,"  growled  Perkins,  with  a  per- 
ceptible tremor  in  his  voice. 

"Spect  he  wuz  'bout  some  tings,"  resumed  Jute,  "but 
know  spooks,  he  sut'ny  did.  He  say  ole  Marse  Simcoe 
useter  plug  lead  en  silver  right  froo  dat  man  dat  want  he 
darter,  en  dar  was  de  hole  en  de  light  shin'in'  froo  hit. 
But  de  spook  ain'  min'in'  a  lil  ting  lak  dat,  he  des  come  on 
all  de  same  snoopin'  roun'  arter  de  ole  man's  darter.  Den 
one  mawnin'  de  ole  man  lay  stiS  en  daid  in  he  baid,  he  eyes 


A    VISITATION  833 

starin^  open  ez  ef  lie  see  sump'n  he  cudu't  stan'  no  how. 
Dat  wuz  de  las'  ob  dat  ar  spook,  Unc'  Sampson  say,  en  he 
say  spook's  cur'us  dat  away.  Wen  dey  sats'fy  dere  grudge 
dey  lets  up  en  dey  doan  foller  de  man  dey  down  on  kaze  dey 
on'y  po'r  in  de  place  whar  de  man  'lowed  ter  kill  um." 

Perkins  took  a  mental  note  of  this  very  important  limita- 
tion of  ghostly  persecution,  and  resolved  that  if  he  had  any 
more  trouble  all  the  crops  in  the  State  would  not  keep  him 
within  the  haunted  limit. 

He  whiled  away  the  time  by  aid  of  his  jug  and  Job-like 
comforters  till  it  began  to  grow  late  and  he  drowsy. 

Suddenly  Jute  exclaimed,  "Hi!  Marse  Perkins,  w'at  dat 
light  dancin'  up  yon'er  by  de  grabeyard  ?" 

The  overseer  rose  with  a  start,  his  hair  rising  also  as  he 
saw  a  fitful  jack-o'-lantern  gleam,  appearing  and  disappear- 
ing on  the  cemetery  hill.  As  had  been  expected,  he  obeyed 
his  impulse,  pouring  down  whiskey  until  he  speedily  ren- 
dered himself  utterly  helpless;  but  while  his  intoxication 
disabled  him  physically,  it  produced  for  a  time  an  excited 
and  disordered  condition  of  mind  in  which  he  was  easily 
imposed  upon.  Jute  shook  him  and  adjured  him  to  get 
up,  saying,  "I  years  quar  soun's  comin'  dis  way." 

When  satisfied  that  their  victim  could  make  no  resist- 
ance, Jute  and  companions  pretended  to  start  away  in  ter- 
ror. Perkins  tried  to  implore  them  to  remain,  but  his  lips 
seemed  paralyzed.  A  few  moments  later  a  strange  group 
entered  the  cottage— five  figures  dressed  in  Federal  uni- 
forms, hands  and  faces  white  and  ghastly,  and  two  carry- 
ing white  cavalry  sabres.  Each  one  had  its  finger  on  its 
lips,  but  Perkins  was  beyond  speech.  In  unspeakable 
horror  he  stared  vacantly  before  him  and  remained  silent 
and  motionless.  The  ghostly  shapes  looked  at  him  fixedly 
for  a  brief  time,  then  at  one  another,  and  solemnly  nodded. 
Next,  four  took  him  up  and  bore  him  out,  the  fifth  follow- 
ing with  the  jug.  At  the  door  stood  an  immovably  tall 
form,  surmounted  by  a  cavalry  hat  and  wrapped  in  a  long 
army  overcoat. 


334  ''MISS   LOU" 

'*Leftenanu  Scoville!"  gasped  Perkins. 

The  figure,  as  if  the  joints  of  its  back  were  near  the 
ground,  made  a  portentous  inclination  of  assent  and  then 
pointed  with  another  white  sabre  to  the  hill,  leading  the 
way.  Perkins  tried  to  shout  for  help,  but  his  tongue 
seemed  powerless,  as  in  fact  it  was,  from  terror  and  liquor 
combined.  He  felt  himself  carried  swiftly  and,  as  he 
thought,   surely,   to  some  terrible  doom. 

At  last  his  bearers  stopped,  and  Perkins  saw  the  mounds 
of  the  Union  dead  rising  near.  He  now  remembered  in  a 
confused  way  that  one  more  grave  had  been  dug  than  had 
proved  necessary,  and  he  uttered  a  low  howl  as  he  felt  him- 
self lowered  into  it.  Instantly  the  tall  figure  which  ap- 
peared to  direct  everything  theatened  him  with  a  ghostly 
sabre,  and  an  utter  paralysis  of  unspeakable  dread  fell 
upon  him. 

For  a  few  moments  they  all  stood  around  and  pointed 
at  him  with  ghostly  white  fingers,  then  gradually  receded 
until  out  of  sight.  After  a  time  Perkins  began  to  get  his 
voice,  when  suddenly  his  tormentors  appeared  in  terrible 
guise.  Each  white,  ghostly  face  was  lighted  up  as  by  a 
tongue  of  fire;  terrible  eyes  gleamed  from  under  wide- 
crowned  cavalry  hats  and  a  voice  was  heard,  in  a  sepul- 
chral whisper,  "Nex'  time  we  come  fer  you,  we  bury  you!" 

At  this  instant  came  a  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by 
a  tremendous  clap  of  thunder.  The  jaws  of  the  figures 
dropped,  the  burning  splinters  of  light- wood  they  carried 
dropping  down  into  the  grave,  and  on  its  half- lifeless  occu- 
pant. The  ghosts  now  disappeared  finally — in  fact  took  to 
their  heels;  all  except  Chunk,  who  secured  the  jug,  nodded 
thrice  portentously  at  Perkins  and  then  retired  also,  not  a 
little  shaken  in  his  nerves,  but  sufiiciently  self-controlled  to 
rally  his  panic-stricken  followers  and  get  them  to  remove 
their  disguises  before  wrapping  their  heads  in  blankets. 
Having  removed  and  hidden  all  traces  of  the  escapade  he 
hooted  for  the  alert  Zany,  who  had  been  tremblingly  on  the 
watch  in  spite  of  her  knowledge  of  what  was  going  on.     As 


A    VISITATION  385 

she  fled  with  Chunk  before  the  coming  storm  she  gasped 
between  the  gusts,  "I  declar,  Chunk,  sech  doin's  gwine  ter 
brung  a  judgment." 

Even  Chunk  inclined  to  this  view  for  a  time,  as  the 
lightning  blazed  from  sky  to  earth,  and  the  thunder 
cracked  and  roared  overhead.  The  rain  poured  in  such 
torrents  that  he  feared  Perkins  might  be  drowned  in  the 
grave  where  he  had  been  placed.  As  for  Aun'  Jinkey, 
she  stared  at  her  unexpected  visitors  in  speechless  perplex- 
ity and  terror  until  the  fury  of  the  tempest  had  passed  and 
their  voices  could  be  heard. 


336  *'MISS  LOU" 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

UNCLE   LUSTHAH   EXHORTS 

THE  heavy  thunder  shower  which  came  and  passed 
quickly,  combined  with  a  consciousness  of  their 
high-hanfded  performances,  so  awed  Chunk  and 
Zany  and  oppressed  them  with  misgivings  that  they  were 
extremely  reticent,  even  to  Aun'  Jinkey.  Chunk  appeared 
profoundly  ignorant  of  the  ghostly  disturbances,  trying  to 
say  unconcernedly,  "I  foun'  hit  a  orful  long  en  skeery  trable 
ter  de  Dn'on  lines  en  I  says  ter  mysef,  'De  Yanks  fin'  me 
down  yere  quicker  ner  I  fin'  dem  up  Norf.  Dey  be  comin* 
dis  away  agin  sho'." 

"I  des  tells  you  we  all  git  whip  nigh  ter  daith  ef  you 
ain'  mo'  keerful,"  said  Aun'  Jinkey,  solemnly.  "I  kyant 
Stan'  de  goin's  on.  I  gwine  ter  pieces  ev'y  day  en  nights 
git'n  wusser'n  de  days.  De  gust  ober  en  you  bettah  light 
out.     Ef  Zany  missed  dey  come  yere  lookin'  fer  her." 

They  needed  no  urging  to  depart,  for  Zany  was  now  as 
scared  as  Chunk  had  ever  wished  her  to  be,  but  her  terrors 
were  taking  a  form  which  inclined  her  to  cling  to  the  old 
landmarks  rather  than  risk  she  knew  not  what,  in  running 
away.  As  she  and  Chunk  were  stealing  toward  the  kitchen 
a  flash  of  lightning  from  the  retiring  storm  revealed  a  start- 
ling figure — that  of  Perkins,  drenched  and  bedraggled,  his 
eyes  almost  starting  from  their  sockets  as  he  staggered  to- 
ward his  cottage.  Chunk's  courage  at  last  gave  way;  he 
turned  and  fled,  leaving  Zany  in  the  lurch.  Frightened 
almost  to  the  point  of  hysterics,  she  crept  to  her  bed  and 
shook  till  morning,  resolving  meanwhile  to  have  done  with 


UNCLE   LUSTHAH   EXHORTS  387 

Chunk  and  all  his  doings.  The  next  day  Mrs.  Baron  found 
her  the  most  diligent  and  faithful  of  servants. 

Perkins  reached  his  door  and  looked  into  the  dark  en- 
trance, the  gusts  having  blown  out  the  light  He  shook 
his  head,  muttered  something  unintelligible,  and  then  bent 
his  uncertain  steps  to  the  tavern.  The  next  morning  Mr. 
Baron  suspected  where  he  was  and  went  to  see  him.  The 
overseer  was  found  to  be  a  pitiable  spectacle,  haggard  trem- 
bling, nervous  in  the  extreme,  yet  sullen  and  reticent  and 
resolute  in  his  purpose  never  to  set  foot  on  the  plantation 
again.  Mr.  Baron  then  closed  all  business  relations  and  sent 
over  the  man's  belongings.  Perkins  became  a  perplexing 
problem  to  Mr.  Baron  and  his  household  and  a  terrible  tradi- 
tion to  the  negroes,  who  regarded  him  as  a  haunted  man. 
Every  day  and  night  passed  in  quietness  after  his  departure 
enabled  them  to  breathe  more  freely  and  to  become  more 
assured  that  he  "wuz  de  on'y  one  de  spooks  arter." 

Chunk  felt  that  he  had  disgraced  himself  by  running 
away  and  leaving  Zany,  and  did  not  venture  back  till  the 
second  night  after  the  culmination  of  his  schemes.  He 
found  Jute  and  his  associates  scared,  sullen  and  inclined 
to  have  little  to  do  with  him  in  their  present  mood.  Then 
he  hooted  in  vain  for  Zany.  The  girl  heard  him  but  made 
no  sign,  muttering,  "Sence  you  runned  away  en  lef  me  I'se 
done  wid  runnin'  away.  You  tootin'  lak  a  squinch-owl  en 
kin  kep  comp'ny  wid  squinch-owls. " 

Only  Aun'  Jinkey  gave  him  food  and  a  sort  of  fearful 
welcome,  and  poor  Chunk  found  himself  at  last  a  very  un- 
happy and  skulking  outlaw. 

Mr.  Baron  gradually  rallied  under  his  increased  respon- 
sibilities and  resolved  to  be  his  own  overseer.  Although 
an  exacting  master,  the  negroes  knew  he  was  not  a  severe 
one  if  they  did  their  work  fairly  well.  The  spook  scare  had 
given  Uncle  Lusthah  renewed  influence  and  he  used  it  in 
behalf  of  peace  and  order.  * '  Our  f ren  Miss  Lou,  sick, ' '  he 
urged.     '*We  mek  her  trouble  en  we  mek  oursefs  trouble 

ef  we  doan  go  on  peac'ble.     What  kin  we  do  eny  way  at 

Rob— IX— 0 


338  *'MISS   LOW 

dis  yer  time  ?  De  Norf  fightin'  fer  us  en  hit  all  'pen'  on  de 
Norf.  We  mus'  kep  a  gwine  ez  we  is  till  de  times  en  sea- 
sons ob  de  Lawd  is  'vealed." 

And  so  for  a  period,  quiet  again  settled  down  on  the  old 
plantation.  Mrs.  Whately  and  Aun'  Jinkey  nursed  Miss 
Lou  into  a  slow,  languid  convalescence,  till  at  last  she  was 
able  to  sit  in  an  easy-chair  on  the  piazza.  This  she  would 
do  by  the  hour,  with  a  sad,  apathetic  look  on  her  thin  face. 
She  was  greatly  changed,  her  old  rounded  outlines  had 
shrunken  and  she  looked  frail  enough  for  the  winds  to 
blow  away.  The  old,  fearless,  spirited  look  in  her  blue 
eyes  had  departed  utterly,  leaving  only  an  expression  of 
settled  sadness,  varied  by  an  anxious,  expectant  gaze,  sug- 
gesting a  lingering  hope  that  some  one  might  come  or  some- 
thing happen  to  break  the  dreadful  silence  which  began,  she 
felt,  when  Scoville  fell  from  his  horse  in  the  darkening  for- 
est. It  remained  unbroken,  and  her  heart  sank  into  more 
hopeless  despondency  daily.  Aun'  Jinkey  and  Zany  were 
charged  so  sternly  to  say  nothing  to  disturb  the  mind  of 
their  young  mistress  that  they  obeyed.  She  was  merely 
given  the  impression  that  Perkins  had  gone  away  of  his 
own  will,  and  this  was  a  relief.  She  supposed  Chunk  had 
returned  to  his  Union  friends,  and  this  also  became  the  gen- 
erally accepted  view  of  all  except  Aun'  Jinkey. 

Mrs.  Whately  came  to  spend  part  of  the  time  at  The  Oaks 
and  part  on  her  own  plantation,  where  her  presence  was 
needed.  Her  devotion  would  have  won  Miss  Lou's  whole 
heart  but  for  the  girl's  ever-present  consciousness  of  Mad 
Whately  in  the  background.  The  mother  now  had  the  tact 
to  say  nothing  about  him  except  in  a  natural  and  general 
way,  occasionally  trying  the  experiment  of  reading  extracts 
from  his  brief  letters,  made  up,  as  they  were,  chiefly  of 
ardent  messages  to  his  cousin.  These  Miss  Lou  received 
in  silence  and  unfeigned  apathy. 

The  respite  and  quiet  could  not  last  very  long  in  these 
culminating  months  of  the  war.  Without  much  warning 
even  to  the  negroes,  who  appeared  to  have  a  sort  of  tele- 


UNCLE  LU8THAH  EXHORTS  339 

graphic  communication  throughout  the  region,  a  Union 
column  forced  its  way  down  the  distant  railroad  and  made 
it  a  temporary  line  of  communication.  Mr.  Baron  suddenly 
woke  up  to  the  fact  that  the  nearest  town  was  occupied  by 
the  Federals  and  that  his  human  property  was  in  a  ferment. 
A  foraging  party  soon  appeared  in  the  neighborhood  and 
even  visited  him,  but  his  statement  of  what  he  had  suffered 
and  the  evident  impoverishment  of  the  place  led  the  Union 
officer  to  seek  more  inviting  fields. 

Partly  to  satisfy  her  own  mind  as  well  as  that  of  her 
niece,  Mrs.  Whately  asked  after  Scoville,  but  could  obtain 
no  information.  The  troops  in  the  vicinity  were  of  a  differ- 
ent organization,  the  leader  of  the  party  a  curt,  grizzled 
veteran,  bent  only  on  obtaining  supplies.  Miss  Lou,  sit- 
ting helplessly  in  her  room,  felt  instinctively  that  she  did 
not  wish  even  to  speak  to  him. 

To  Chunk,  this  Union  advance  was  a  godsend.  He  im- 
mediately took  his  horse  to  the  railroad  town,  sold  it  for  a 
small  sum,  and  found  employment  at  the  station,  where  his 
great  strength  secured  him  good  wages.  He  could  handle 
with  ease  a  barrel  akin  to  himself  in  shape  and  size. 

Uncle  Lusthah  suddenly  found  immense  responsibility 
thrust  upon  him.  In  the  opinion  of  the  slaves  the  time  and 
seasons  he  had  predicted  and  asked  his  flock  to  wait  for  had 
come.  Negroes  from  other  and  nearer  plantations  were 
thronging  to  the  town,  and  those  at  The  Oaks  were  rapidly 
forming  the  purpose  to  do  likewise.  They  only  waited  the 
sanction  of  their  religious  teacher  to  go  almost  in  a  body. 
The  old  preacher  was  satisfied  they  would  soon  go  any  way, 
unless  inducements  and  virtual  freedom  were  offered.  He 
therefore  sought  Mr.    Baron  and  stated  the  case  to  him. 

The  old  planter  would  listen  to  nothing.  He  was  too 
honorable  to  temporize  and  make  false  promises.  "Bah!" 
he  said,  irritably,  *'the  Yanks  will  soon  be  driven  off  as 
they  were  before.  I  can't  say  you  are  free!  I  can't  give 
you  a  share  in  the  crops !  It's  contrary  to  the  law  of  the 
State  and  the  whole  proper  order  of  things.     I  wouldn't  do 


840  ''MISS   LOV 

it  if  I  could.  What  would  my  neighbors  think?  What 
would  I  think  of  myself?  What  a  fine  condition  I'd  be  in 
after  the  Yanks  are  all  driven  from  the  country!  No,  I 
shall  stand  or  fall  with  the  South  and  maintain  the  institu- 
tions of  my  fathers.  If  you  people  leave  me  now  and  let 
the  crops  go  to  waste  you  will  soon  find  yourselves  starv- 
ing. When  you  come  whining  back  I'll  have  nothing  to 
feed  you  with." 

Uncle  Lusthah  cast  an  imploring  look  on  Miss  Lou 
where  she  sat  in  her  chair,  with  more  interest  expressed 
in  her  wan  face  than  she  had  shown  for  a  long  time. 

"Uncle  Lusthah,"  she  said  earnestly,  "don't  you  leave 
me.  As  soon  as  1  am  able  I'll  buy  you  of  uncle  and  set 
you  free.     Then  you  can  always  work  for  me. ' ' 

"I  doan  wanter  lebe  you,  young  mistis,  I  sut'ny  doan, 
ner  der  ole  place  whar  I  al'ays  libed.  But  freedom  sweet, 
young  mistis,   en  I  wanter  feel  I  free  befo'   I  die." 

"You  shall,  Uncle  Lusthah.  You  have  earned  your 
freedom,  anyway." 

"Tut,  tut,  Louise,  that's  no  way  to  talk,"  said  her  uncle 
testily. 

The  old  slave  looked  from  one  to  the  other  sorrowfully, 
shook  his  head  and  slowly  retired. 

"Eemember  what  I  said,"  Miss  Lou  called  after  him, 
and  then  sank  back  in  her  chair. 

Uncle  Lusthah  had  to  relate  the  result  of  his  conference, 
and  the  consequence  was  an  immediate  outbreak  of  a  reck- 
less, alienated  spirit.  That  afternoon  the  field  hands  paid 
no  attention  to  Mr.  Baron's  orders,  and  he  saw  that  slaves 
from  other  plantations  were  present.  Uncle  Lusthah  sat  at 
his  door  with  his  head  bowed  on  his  breast.  His  people 
would  listen  to  him  no  more,  and  he  himself  was  so  divided 
in  his  feelings  that  he  knew  not  what  to  say. 

"Hit  may  be  de  Lawd's  doin's  ter  set  He  people  free," 
he  muttered,  "but  somehow  1  kyant  brung  mysef  ter  lebe 
dat  po'  sick  chile.  Ole  mars' r  en  ole  miss  kyant  see  en 
woan  see,  en  dat  lil  chile  w'at  stan'  up  fer  us  in  de  'stremity 


UNCLE   LU8THAH  EXHORTS  ^41 

ob  tribe rlation  be  lef  *  wid  no  one  ter  do  fer  her.  I  berry  oie 
en  stiff  in  my  jints  en  I  cud  die  peaceful  ef  I  know  I  free; 
but  hit  'pears  that  de  Lawd  say  ter  me,  'Uncle  Lusthah, 
stay  right  yere  en  look  arter  dat  lil  sick  lam'.  Den  I  mek 
you  free  w'en  de  right  time  come.'  " 

Uncle  Lusthah  soon  had  the  peace  of  the  martyr  who 
has  chosen  his  course.  Mr.  Baron  also  sat  on  his  veranxia 
with  head  bowed  upon  his  breast.  He  too  had  chosen  his 
course,  and  now  in  consequence  was  sunk  in  more  bitter 
and  morose  protest  than  ever.  Events  were  beyond  his 
control  and  he  knew  it,  but  he  would  neither  yield  nor 
change.  This  was  the  worst  that  had  yet  befallen  him. 
Black  ruin  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  stared  back  with 
gloomy  yet  resolute  eyes.  "I  will  go  down  with  my  old 
colors  flying,"  he  resolved,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it. 

His  wife  was  with  him  in  sympathy,  but  her  indomitable 
spirit  would  not  be  crushed.  She  was  almost  ubiquitous 
amoiig  the  house  and  yard  slaves,  awing  them  into  a  sub- 
mission which  they  scarcely  understood  and  inwardly  chafed 
at.  She  even  went  to  the  quarters  and  produced  evident 
uneasiness  by  her  stern,  cutting  words.  None  dared  reply 
to  her,  but  when  the  spell  of  her  presence  was  removed  all 
resumed  their  confused  and  exultant  deliberations  as  to  their 
future  course. 

Aun'  Jinkey,  sitting  with  Miss  Lou,  scoffed  at  the  idea 
of  going  away.  "Long  ez  my  chimly-corner  en  my  pipe 
dar  I  dar  too,"  she  said.  *'Dis  freedom  business  so  mux 
up  I  kyant  smoke  hit  out  nohow. ' ' 

Zany  was  in  a  terribly  divided  state  of  mind.  Were  it 
not  for  Miss  Lou,  she  would  have  been  ready  enough  to  go, 
especially  as  she  had  heard  that  Chunk  was  at  the  railroad 
town.  Her  restless  spirit  craved  excitement  and  freedom: 
a  townfal  of  admirers,  with  Chunk  thrown  in,  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly alluring  prospect  With  all  her  faults,  she  had  a 
heart,  and  the  sick  girl  had  won  her  affection  unstintedly. 
When  therefore  Miss  Lou  summoned  her  and  fixed  her  sad, 
pleading  blue  eyes  upon  her,  the  girl  threw  her  apron  over 


342  ''MISS   LOW 

lier  head  and  began  to  cry.  "Doan  say  a  word,  Miss  Lou," 
she  sobbed,  *'doan  ax  me  not  ter  go  kase  et  you  does 
I  kyant  go." 

"Sech  foolisbness !"  ejaculated  Aun'  Jinkey  with  a  dis- 
dainful sniff.  "She  lebe  you  des  lak  a  cat  dat  snoop  off 
enywhar  en  arter  enybody  w'at  got  mo'  vittles.  Wat  she 
keer?" 

Down  came  the  apron,  revealing  black  eyes  blazing 
through  the  tears  which  were  dashed  right  and  left  as 
Zany  cried,  "You  ole  himage,  w'at  you  keer?  You  tink 
a  hun'erd  times  mo'  ob  yer  pipe  ner  Miss  Lou.  Long  ez 
you  kin  smoke  en  projeck  in  dat  ar  ole  cabin  hole  you  woan 
lebe  his  'less  you  turned  out.  1  des  gwine  ter  stay  out'n 
spite  en  doan  wan  ter  go  a  hun'erd  mile  ob  dat  gran' boy 
ob  yourn." 

"There,  Zany,"  said  Miss  Lou  gently,  holding  out  her 
hand.  "I  understand  you  and  Aun'  Jinkey  both,  and  you 
both  are  going  to  stay  out  of  love  for  me.  I  reckon 
you  won't  be  sorry  in  the  end." 

Up  went  the  apron  again  and  Zany  admitted,  "I  kyant 
lebe  you.  Miss  Lou,  I  des  kyant,"  as  she  rushed  away  to 
indulge  in  the  feminine  relief  of  tears  without  stint. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baron  passed  a  sleepless  night,  for  even 
the  question  of  food  would  be  problematical  if  all  the  able- 
bodied  men  and  women  on  the  place  went  away.  In  the 
early  dawn  there  were  ominous  sounds  at  the  quarters,  and 
as  the  light  increased  a  spectacle  which  filled  the  old  planter 
and  his  wife  with  rage  was  revealed.  The  quarters  were 
empty  and  all  were  trooping  toward  the  avenue  with  bundles 
containing  their  belongings.  This  was  to  be  expected,  but 
the  act  which  excited  the  direst  indignation  was  the  hitch- 
ing of  the  only  pair  of  mules  left  on  the  place  that  were 
worth  anything  to  the  old  family  carriage.  Aun'  Suke  was 
waddling  toward  this  with  the  feeling  that  a  "char'ot  wuz 
waitin'  fer  her  now,  sho!" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baron  looked  at  each  other  in  quick,  com- 
prehensive sympathy,  then  hastily  and  partially  dressed. 


UNCLE   LUSTHAH  EXHORTS  343 

Mr.  Baron  took  his  revolver  while  "ole  miss"  snatched  a 
sharp  carving-knife  from  the  dining-room.  By  the  time 
they  reached  the  scene,  Aun'  Suke  filled  the  back  seat  of 
the  carriage  and  the  rest  of  the  space  was  being  filled  with 
babies. 

"Stop  that!"  shouted  Mr.  Baron.  "Before  I'll  let  you 
take  my  mules  I'll  shoot  'em  both." 

"Ole  miss"  wasted  no  time  in  threats — she  simply  cut 
the  traces  and  there  were  Aun'  Suke  and  the  babies 
stranded.  The  negroes  drew  together  on  one  side  and 
master  and  mistress  on  the  other.  The  faces  of  the  latter 
were  aglow  with  anger;  on  the  countenances  of  the  former 
were  mingled  perplexity  and  sullen  defiance,  but  the  old 
habit  of  deference  still  had  its  restraining  influence. 

"Go  and  starve  and  leave  us  to  starve,  if  you  will," 
shouted  Mr.  Baron,  "but  you  shall  steal  none  of  my 
property." 

Angry  mutterings  began  among  the  negroes,  and  it  were 
hard  to  say  how  the  scene  would  have  ended  if  old  Uncle 
Lusthah  had  not  suddenly  appeared  between  the  opposing 
parties,  and  held  up  his  hand  impressively. 

"I  gib  up  my  charnce  ter  be  free,"  he  began  with  simple 
dignity.  "My  body  'longs  ter  you  yit,  mars' r  en  misus; 
but  not  my  speret.  Out'n  dat  I  gwine  ter  speak  plain  fer 
de  fear  ob  man  clean  gone  fum  me.  Mars'r,  w'at  1  say  ter 
you?  Lak  ole  Pharo,  you  t'ink  yo'sef  bigger' n  de  Lawd. 
Ef  you'd  done  spoke  ter  de  hans  en  say  'des  go  home  en 
dar  de  crops  en  shar'  togeder'  dey  ud  stayed  en  wucked  fer 
you  'tented  like,  but  you  des  talk  lak  ole  Pharo.  Now  de 
people  gwine  en  you  kyant  stop  dem.  We  knowed  'bout 
de  prokermation  ob  de  gre't  Linkum.  We  know  we  bin 
free  dis  long  time.  We  al'ays  know  you  no  right  ter  keep 
us  slabes.  Dis  yer  Grod's  worl'.  Hit  don't  'long  ter  you 
en  misus.  He  ain't  stoppin'  ter  'suit  you  'bout  He  doin's. 
Ef  you  s'mitted  ter  He  will  you'd  a  gwine  'long  easy  lak  de 
crops  grow  in  spring-time.  Now  hit  des  de  same  ez  ef  you 
plant  de  crops  in  de  fall  en  'spect  de  Lawd  ter  turn  de  winter 


S44  **MI8S   LOW 

inter  summer  ter  please  you.  I  berry  ole  en  liad  'spearance. 
I'se  prayed  all  de  long  night  en  de  Lawd's  gib  me  ter  see 
inter  de  futer.  Lak  Moses  I  may  never  git  in  de  promised 
Ian'  ob  freedom,  but  hit  dar  en  you  kyant  kep  de  people 
out'n  hit.  Ef  yon  doan  bend  ter  He  will,  you  breaks. 
Wen  all  de  ban's  gone  en  de  fiel's  is  waste  t'ink  ober  de 
trufe.  De  Lawd  did'n  mek  dis  yer  worl'  ter  suit  you  en 
misus.  P'raps  He  t'ink  ez  much  ob  dem  po'  souls  dar 
(pointing  at  the  negroes)  ez  ob  yourn.  Didn't  I  stan'  wid 
dem  w'at  die  ter  mek  us  free  ?  Der  blood  wateh  dis  hull 
Ian'  en  I  feels  hit  in  my  heart  dat  de  Lawd' 11  brung  up 
a  crap  dis  Ian'  neber  saw  befo'.  Please  reckermember, 
mars' r  en  misus,  de  gre't  wuck  ob  de  Lawd  gwine  right 
along  des  ez  ef  you  ain'  dar." 

Then  the  old  man  turned  to  the  negroes  and  in  his  loud, 
melodious  voice  concluded,  "I  gibs  you  one  mo'  'zortation. 
You  is  free,  but  ez  I  say  so  of'un  you  ain'  free  ter  do  fool- 
ishness. Tek  yo'  wibes  en  chil'un;  dey  yourn.  Tek  yo' 
clo'es;  you  arned  um  en  much  mo',  but  you  kyant  tek  de 
mules  en  de  ker'age:  dey  mars'r's.  Gro  en  wuck  lak  men 
en  wimmin  fer  hon'st  wages  en  show  you  fit  ter  be  free. 
Keckermember  all  I  tole  you  so  of'un.  De  Lawd  go  wid 
you  en  kep  you  in  de  way  ob  life  everlas'in'." 

The  better  element  among  the  negroes  prevailed,  for  they 
felt  that  they  had  had  a  spokesman  who  voiced  their  best 
and  deepest  feelings.  One  after  another  came  and  wrung 
the  hand  of  the  old  man  and  departed.  To  "Pharo"  and 
his  wife  few  vouchsafed  a  glance,  for  they  had  cut  the  cord 
of  human  sympathy.  Many  messages  of  affection,  however, 
were  left  for  Miss  Lou.  The  mothers  took  the  babies  from 
the  carriage,  Aun'  Suke  was  helped  out  and  she  sulkily 
waddled  down  the  avenue  with  the  rest.  By  the  time  she 
reached  the  main  road  her  powers  of  locomotion  gave  out, 
causing  her  to  drop,  half- hysterical,  by  the  wayside.  Some 
counselled  her  to  go  back,  saying  they  would  come  for  her 
before  long;  but  pride,  shame  and  exhaustion  made  it  al- 
most as  difficult  to  go  back  as  to  go  forward,  and  so  she  was 


UNCLE   LUSTHAH  EXHORTS  845 

left  lamenting.  With  stern,  inflexible  faces,  master  and 
mistress  watched  their  property  depart,  then  returned  to 
the  house,  while  Uncle  Lusthah  mended  the  harness  tempo- 
rarily and  took  the  carriage  back  to  its  place.  Standing 
aloof,  Zany  had  watched  the  scene,  wavering  between  her 
intense  desire  to  go  and  her  loyalty  to  Miss  Lou.  The  sick 
girl  had  conquered,  the  negress  winning  an  heroic  victory 
over  herself.  When  she  entered  the  back  door  of  the  man- 
sion, her  face  rigid  from  the  struggle  she  had  passed 
through,  she  was  in  no  lamb-like  mood.  Neither  was  her 
mistress,  who  was  angrier  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life. 

"Well,"  she  said  to  Zany  in  cold,  cutting  tones,  "what 
are  you  doing  here?  Looking  around  for  something  to 
carry  off  before  you  go  also?" 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  this  implied  charge  and  lack  of 
appreciation  of  her  great  self-sacrifice,  Zany  replied  hotly, 
"I  done  wid  you,  misus.  I  tek  no  mo'  orders  fum  you.  I 
stay  fer  sump'n  you  doan  know  not'n  'bout — lub,  but  lub 
fer  Miss  Lou.     Ef  she  kyant  'tect  em  'gin  you  den  I  go." 


846  *'MISS  LOU'' 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

A  NEW   ROUTINE 

IT  certainly  was  a  dismal,  shrunken  houseliold  that  Mrs. 
Baron  presided  over  that  morning.  Ann'  Jinkey  came 
to  the  rescue  and  prepared  a  meagre  breakfast.  Miss 
Lou's  room  being  on  the  side  of  the  house  furthest  from  the 
scenes  of  the  early  morning,  she  had  slept  on  till  Zany 
wakened  her.  She  listened  in  a  sort  of  dreary  apathy  to  all 
that  had  occurred,  feeling  that  she  was  too  weak  physically 
and  too  broken-spirited  to  interfere.  She  also  had  the  im- 
pression that  it  would  have  been  of  no  use — that  her  uncle 
and  aunt  were  so  fixed  in  their  ways  and  views  that  nothing 
but  harsh  experience  could  teach  them  anything.  In  answer 
to  Zany's  appeal  for  protection  against  *'ole  miss"  Miss  Lou 
said,  "We  won't  say  anything  more  about  it  now  till  you 
get  over  your  hurt  feelings,  which  are  very  natural.  Of 
course  my  aunt  can't  punish  you — that's  out  of  the  question 
now,  but  by  and  by  I  reckon  you  will  do  for  her  out  of  love 
for  me  when  you  see  it  will  save  me  trouble.  You  have 
done  a  good,  unselfish  act  in  staying  with  me,  and  having 
begun  so  well,  you  will  keep  on  in  the  same  way.  After  all 
of  the  rest  get  free  you  will,  too.  What's  more,  when  I 
come  into  my  property  I'll  make  free  all  who  stand  by  me 
now." 

So  Zany  brought  her  up  a  nice  little  breakfast  and  was 
comforted. 

When  at  last  the  young  girl  with  weak,  uncertain  steps 
came  down  to  her  easy-chair  on  the  piazza,  she  found  her 


A    NEW   ROUTINE  847 

uncle  gloomily  smoking,  and  her  aunt  solacing  her  per- 
turbed mind  with  her  chief  resource — housekeeping  affairs. 
Little  was  said  beyond  a  formal  greeting. 

As  Miss  Lou  sat  gazing  vacantly  and  sadly  down  the 
avenue,  a  huge  figure  appeared,  making  slow,  painful  prog- 
ress toward  the  house.  At  last  Aun'  Suke  was  recognized, 
and  the  truth  flashed  across  the  girl's  mind  that  the  fat  old 
cook  had  found  she  could  not  get  away.  Finally  the  woman 
sat  down  under  a  tree  not  far  from  the  house,  not  only  over- 
come by  heat  and  fatigue,  but  also  under  the  impression 
that  she  must  open  negotiations  before  she  could  expect  to 
be  received. 

"There,"  said  Mr.  Baron  grimly,  "is  one  of  them  coming 
back  already.  They'll  be  sneaking,  whining  back  when  the 
crops  are  spoiled  and  it's  too  late." 

Miss  Lou  rose  feebly  and  got  an  old  sunshade  from  the 
hall. 

"Louise,  you  are  not  able — I  forbid  it." 

The  girl  felt  she  had  strength  to  get  to  the  old  woman 
but  not  enough  to  contend  with  her  uncle,  so  she  went 
slowly  down  the  steps  without  a  word.  Mr.  Baron  growled, 
"I  might  as  well  speak  to  the  wind  as  to  anybody  on  the 
place  any  more." 

When  Aun'  Suke  saw  the  girl  coming  to  her  she  scram- 
bled to  her  feet,  and  holding  up  her  hands  ejaculated  all 
sorts  of  remorseful  and  deprecatory  comments. 

"Welcome  back,"  said  Miss  Lou  kindly,  when  in  speak- 
ing distance.  "There,  don't  go  on  so.  Sit  down  and  I'll 
sit  down  with  you."  She  sank  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and 
leaned  against  it,  panting. 

"I  des  feels  ez  ef  de  yeth  ud  op'n  en  swaller  me,"  began 
the  poor  renegade,  quivering  with  emotion. 

"Don't  talk  so,  Aun'  Suke.  I'm  not  strong  enough  to 
stand  foolishness.  You  will  go  back  with  me  and  stay  with 
Uncle  Lusthah  and  Aun'  Jinkey  and  Zany.  You  will  cook 
for  us  all  just  the  same  and  by  and  by  you  will  be  as  free 
as  I  am. ' ' 


348  "MISS   LOU'" 

**Well,  Miss  Lou,  I  comin'  back  lak  de  perdigous  son, 
but  ole  miss  aiu'  got  no  fatted  calf  fer  me,  ner  you  neider, 
1  reckon.     I  des  feered  on  w'at  ole  miss  say  en  do." 

"Aun'  Suke,"  said  the  girl,  taking  the  woman's  great 
black  hand,  "you  stand  by  me  and  I'll  stand  by  you. 
When  1  get  stronger  we'll  see  what's  best  to  be  done.  Now 
I  can't  think,  I  don't  know.  I  only  feel  that  we  must  help 
one  another  till  all  is  clearer." 

Mrs.  Baron  accepted  Aun'  Suke's  presence  in  the  kitchen 
again  in  grim  silence.  She  believed  it  the  earnest  of  the 
speedy  return  of  all  the  others,  and  resolved  to  bide  her 
time  when  the  Southern  armies  restored  completely  the 
old  order  of  things. 

Mrs.  Whately  drove  over  during  the  day  and  was  aghast 
at  what  had  occurred. 

"I  have  kept  the  great  majority  of  my  hands  by  concilia- 
tion and  promising  them  a  share  in  the  crops.  Indeed,  I 
had  virtually  to  treat  them  as  if  free.  It  was  either  that  or 
ruin." 

"Well,"  growled  her  brother,  "you  can't  keep  that  pace 
and  I  wouldn't  begin  it." 

"I  can  only  do  the  best  I  can,  from  day  to  day,"  sighed 
the  lady,  "and  I've  been  almost  distracted." 

After  showing  her  affectionate  solicitude  for  Miss  Lou 
she  returned,  feeling  that  her  presence  at  home  was  now 
hourly  needed. 

Gradually  the  little  household  began  to  adjust  itself  to 
the  new  order  of  things,  and  day  by  day  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baron 
were  compelled  to  see  that  the  few  servants  who  ministered 
to  them  were  kept  at  their  tasks  by  an  influence  in  which 
they  had  no  part.  Almost  imperceptibly,  Miss  Lou  regained 
her  strength,  yet  was  but  the  shadow  of  her  former  self. 
Uncle  Lusthah  gave  his  attention  to  the  garden,  already 
getting  weed-choked.  The  best  he  could  hope  to  do  was  to 
keep  up  a  meagre  supply  of  vegetables,  and  Zany  in  the  cool 
of  the  day  often  gave  him  a  helping  hand. 

Late  one  afternoon  Miss  Lou,  feeling  a  little  stronger, 


A    NEW  ROUTINE  54V 

went  to  Aun'  Jinkey's  cabin  and  sat  down  on  the  door- 
step. 

''Oh,  mammy,"  she  sighed,  '*I'm  so  tired,  I'm  so  tired; 
yet  I  can  do  nothing  at  all." 

"You  po'  lil  chile,''  groaned  Aun'  Jinkey,  *'how  dif  ernt 
you  looks  ner  w'en  you  fus  sot  dar  en  wish  sump'n  happen." 

"Oh,"  cried  the  girl  almost  despairingly,  "too  much  has 
happened!  too  much  has  happened!  How  can  God  let  such 
troubles  come  upon  us?" 

"Eben  Uncle  Lusthah  hab  ter  say  he  dunno.  He  say  he 
des  gwine  ter  hole  on  twel  de  eend,  en  dat  all  he  kin  do." 

"Oh,  mammy,  I'm  all  at  sea.  I  haven't  any  strength  to 
hold  on  and  there  doesn't  seem  anything  to  hold  on  to. 
Oh,  mammy,  mammy,  do  you  think  he's  surely  dead?" 

"1  feared  he  is,"  groaned  Aun'  Jinkey.  "Dey  say  he 
spook  come  arter  Perkins  en  dat  w'y  de  oberseer  clared  out." 

"Oh,  horrible!"  cried  the  girl.  "If  his  spirit  could  come 
here  at  all  would  it  not  come  to  me  instead  of  to  that  brutal 
wretch?  Oh,  mammy,  I  don't  know  which  is  worse,  your 
religion  or  your  superstition.  You  believe  in  a  God  who 
lets  such  things  happen  and  you  can  think  my  noble  friend 
would  come  back  here  only  to  scare  a  man  like  Perkins. 
It's  all  just  horrible.  Oh,  Allan,  Allan,  are  you  so  lost  to 
me  that  you  can  never  look  goodwill  into  my  eyes  again  ?" 

Tears  rushed  to  her  eyes  for  the  first  time  since  she  heard 
the  dreadful  tidings,  and  she  sobbed  in  her  mammy's  arms 
till  exhausted. 

That  outburst  of  grief  and  the  relief  of  tears  given  by 
kindly  nature  was  the  decisive  point  in  Miss  Lou's  conva- 
lescence. She  was  almost  carried  back  to  her  room  and  slept 
till  late  the  following  day.  When  she  awoke  she  felt  that 
her  strength  was  returning,  and  with  it  came  the  courage  to 
take  up  the  burdens  of  life.  For  weeks  it  was  little  more 
than  the  courage  of  a  naturally  brave,  conscientious'  nature 
which  will  not  yield  to  the  cowardice  and  weakness  of  inac- 
tion. The  value  of  work,  of  constant  occupation,  to  sustain 
and  divert  the  mind,  was  speedily  learned.     Gradually  she 


350  ''MISS  LOW 

took  the  helm  of  outdoor  matters  from  her  uncle's  nerveless 
hands.  She  had  a  good  deal  of  a  battle  in  respect  to  Chunk. 
It  was  a  sham  one  on  the  part  of  Zany,  as  the  girl  well  knew, 
for  Chunk's  "tootin'  "  was  missed  terribly.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Baron  at  first  refused  point-blank  to  hear  of  his  returning. 

"Uncle,"  said  his  ward  gravely,  "is  only  your  property 
at  stake?  1  can  manage  Chunk,  and  through  him  perhaps 
get  others.  I  am  not  responsible  for  changes  which  I  can't 
help;  I  am  to  blame  if  1  sit  down  idly  and  helplessly  and 
do  nothing  better  than  fret  or  sulk.  Your  bitter  words  of 
protest  are  not  bread  and  bring  no  money.  For  your  sakes 
as  well  as  my  own  you  must  either  act  or  let  me  act." 

The  honorable  old  planter  was  touched  at  his  most  sen- 
sitive point,  and  reluctantly  conceded,  saying,  "Oh,  well, 
if  you  think  you  can  save  any  of  your  property  out  of  the 
wreck,  employ  Chunk  on  your  own  responsibility." 

So  Chunk  was  reinstated  in  his  granny's  cabin  and  given 
a  share  in  all  he  could  raise  and  secure  of  the  crops.  The 
negro  was  as  shrewd  as  Jacob  of  old,  but  like  the  Hebrew 
patriarch  could  do  much  under  the  inspiration  of  his  twofold 
affection  for  Zany  and  his  young  mistress. 

And  so  the  summer  and  early  fall  wore  away.  The  rail- 
road line  of  communication  was  maintained,  and  upon  it 
drifted  away  Mr.  Baron's  former  slaves  and  the  great  ma- 
jority of  the  others  in  the  neighborhood.  The  region  in 
which  the  plantation  was  situated  was  so  remote  and 
sparsely  settled  that  it  was  a  sort  of  border  land,  un- 
claimed and  un visited  by  any  considerable  bodies  from 
either  party.  Rev.  Dr.  Williams'  congregation  had  shrunken 
to  a  handful.  He  officiated  at  one  end  of  the  church,  and 
his  plump,  black-eyed  daughter  led  the  singing  at  the  other, 
but  it  was  observed  that  she  looked  discontented  rather  than 
devotional.  She  was  keenly  alive  to  the  fact  that  there  was 
not  an  eligible  man  left  in  the  parish.  Uncle  Lusthah  pa- 
tiently drove  the  mules  every  clear  Sunday  morning  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baron  sat  in  the  carriage  whose  springs  Aun' 
Suke  had  sorely  tried;   but  Miss  Lou  would  not  go  with 


A    NEW   ROUTINE  351 

them.  After  his  readiness  to  marry  her  to  her  cousin  she 
felt  it  would  be  worse  than  mockery  to  listen  to  Dr.  Wil- 
liams again. 

But  a  deep,  yet  morbid  spiritual  change  was  taking  place 
in  the  girl.  As  of  old,  she  thought  and  brooded  when  her 
hands  were  busy,  and  during  her  long,  solitary  evenings  on 
the  piazza.  Strange  to  say,  she  was  drawing  much  of  her 
inspiration  from  a  grave — the  grave  of  a  rough,  profane  sol- 
dier whom  she  knew  only  as  "Yarry."  There  was  some- 
thing in  his  self-forgetful  effort  in  her  behalf,  even  when  in 
the  mortal  anguish  of  death,  which  appealed  to  her  most 
powerfully.  His  heroism,  expecting,  hoping  for  no  re- 
ward, became  the  finest  thing  in  her  estimation  she  had 
ever  witnessed.  Her  own  love  taught  her  why  Scoville 
was  attracted  by  her  and  became  ready  to  do  anything  for 
her.  ''That's  the  old,  old  story,"  she  mused,  "ever  sweet 
and  new,  yet  old  as  the  world.  Poor  Yarry  was  actuated 
by  a  purely  unselfish,  noble  impulse.  Only  such  an  im- 
pulse can  sustain  and  carry  me  through  my  life.  No,  no, 
Mrs.  Waldo,  I  can  never  become  happy  in  making  others 
happy.  I  can  never  be  happy  again.  The  bullet  which 
killed  Allan  Scoville  pierced  my  heart  also  and  it  is  dead, 
but  that  poor  soldier  taught  me  how  one  can  still  live  and 
suSer  nobly,  and  such  a  life  must  be  pleasing  to  the  only 
God  I  can  worship." 

All  wondered  at  the  change  gradually  taking  place  in 
the  girl.  It  was  too  resolute,  too  much  the  offspring  of 
her  will  rather  than  her  heart  to  have  in  it  much  gentle- 
ness, but  it  was  observed  that  she  was  becoming  gravely 
and  patiently  considerate  of  others,  even  of  their  faults 
and  follies.  As  far  as  possible,  her  uncle  and  aunt  were 
allowed  their  own  way  without  protest,  the  girl  sacrificing 
her  own  feelings  and  wishes  when  it  was  possible.  They 
at  last  began  to  admit  that  their  niece  was  manifesting  a 
becoming  spirit  of  submission  and  deference,  when  in  fact 
her  management  of  their  affairs  was  saving  them  from  an 
impoverishment  scarcely  to  be  endured. 


'*MISS   LOW 

For  Mrs.  Whately  the  girl  now  had  a  genuine  and  strong 
affection,  chilled  only  by  her  belief  that  the  plan  in  regard 
to  the  son  was  ever  in  the  mother's  mind.  So  indeed  it 
was.  The  sagacious  woman  watched  Miss  Lou  closely  and 
with  feelings  of  growing  hope  as  well  as  of  tenderness.  The 
girl  was  showing  a  patience,  a  strength  of  mind,  and,  above 
all,  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  which  satisfied  Mrs.  Whately 
that  she  was  the  one  of  all  the  world  for  her  son. 

"I  do  believe,"  she  thought,  "that  if  T  can  only  make 
Louise  think  it  will  be  best  for  us  all  as  well  as  Madison, 
she  will  3aeld.  The  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  seems  her  su- 
preme impulse.  Her  sadness  will  pass  away  in  time,  and 
she  would  soon  learn  to  love  the  father  of  her  children. 
What's  more,  there  is  something  about  her  now  which 
would  hold  any  man's  love.  See  how  her  lightest  wish 
controls  those  who  work  for  her,  even  that  harum-scarum 
Zany." 

In  the  late  autumn  a  long-delayed  letter  threw  Mrs. 
Whately  into  a  panic  of  fear  and  anxiety.  A  surgeon 
wrote  that  her  son  had  been  severely  wounded  and  had 
lost  his  left  arm,  but  that  he  was  doing  well. 


Here  the  author  laid  down  his  pen.  In  Mr.  Roe's  jour- 
nal, under  date  of  July  11,  is  an  entry  alluding  to  a  conver- 
sation with  a  friend.  That  conversation  concerned  the  con- 
clusion of  this  book,  and  was,  in  effect,  substantially  the 
same  as  the  outline  given  by  him  in  a  letter,  part  of  which 
is  quoted  as  follows: 

"It  is  not  my  purpose  to  dwell  further  on  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  close  of  the  war,  as  the  book  may  be  considered 
too  long  already.  It  only  remains  for  me  now  to  get  all  my 
people  happy  as  soon  as  possible.  Zany  and  Chunk  'make 
up,'  and  a  good  deal  of  their  characteristic  love-making  will 
be  worked  in  to  relieve  the  rather  sombre  state  of  things  at 
this  stage.     Whately  returns  with  his  empty  sleeve,  more 


A   NEW  ROUTINE  353 

of  a  hero  than  ever  in  his  own  eyes  and  his  mother's.  Miss 
Lou  thinks  him  strangely  thoughtful  and  considerate  in 
keeping  away,  as  he  does,  after  a  few  short  visits  at  The 
Oaks.  The  truth  is,  he  is  wofully  disappointed  at  the 
change  in  his  cousin's  looks.  This  pale,  listless,  hollow- 
eyed  girl  is  not  the  one  who  set  him  to  reading  'Taming  of 
the  Shrew. '  That  her  beauty  of  color  and  of  outline  could 
ever  return,  he  does  not  consider;  and  in  swift  revulsion  of 
feeling  secretly  pays  court  elsewhere. 

"Mrs.  Whately,  however,  makes  up  for  her  son's  defi- 
ciencies. Utterly  ignorant  how  affairs  are  shaping,  she 
works  by  her  representations  upon  Miss  Lou's  sympathies 
until  the  weary  consent  is  wrung  from  the  poor  girl — 'Noth- 
ing matters  to  me  any  more !  If  it  makes  you  all  happy — 
why — then —  But  I  must  wait  a  year. '  She  feels  that  her 
love  for  Allan  Scoville  will  never  be  less,  and  that  this 
period  of  time  is  little  enough  to  devote  to  him  in  silent 
memory. 

"The  delighted  aunt  hastens  to  report  to  her  son,  who 
stares  rather  blankly,  for  a  lover,  as  he  hears  of  this  conces- 
sion on  his  cousin's  part,  and  without  answer,  he  orders  his 
horse  and  rides  furiously  away.  The  ride  is  one  that  has 
been  very  frequently  taken  since  the  young  man's  return, 
and  pretty  soon  he  is  in  earnest  conversation  with  the  rosy- 
cheeked,  black-eyed  daughter  of  Dr.  Williams.  There  seems 
to  be  very  good  understanding  between  the  two,  and  later, 
just  at  the  final  scene,  it  will  come  out  as  e£fectively  as  can 
be  portrayed  the  startling  news  of  their  secret  marriage. 

"The  days  go  on.  One  afternoon  in  the  late  autumn, 
Aun'  Jinkey,  smoking  and  'projeckin'  '  as  usual  in  her 
cabin,  has  a  vision  which  fairly  sends  her  heart,  as  she  will 
express  it,  'right  troo  de  mouf.'  Was  it  a  'spook,'  or  had 
the  dead  really  come  back  to  life  ?  And  I  hear  her  ex- 
claim, throwing  up  her  hands,  'Bress  de  Lawd,  Marse  Sco- 
ville, dat  you?  Whar  you  drap  fum  dis  yere  time?  I 
doan  almos'  know  you  widout  de  un'fo'm  I' 

"But  the  'vision'  will  not  stop  to  narrate  to  the  old  aunty 


854  ''MISS    LOW' 

of  his  capture,  imprisonment  and  illness,  his  release  and  hur 
ried  journey  North.  He  catches  sight  of  the  slight  figure  or 
Miss  Lou  in  the  distance  near  the  run,  and  in  a  moment  is 
beside  her.  'Only  death  could  keep  me  from  seeking  you 
and  living  for  you  always,  did  I  not  tell  you,  my  darling, 
my  darling  ?' 

"And  here  I  will  leave  them.     The  reader's  imagination 
will  picture  more  if  more  is  wished.     It  is  better  so." 


THE   END 


DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 


Copyright,  1885, 
By  DODD,  mead,  &  COMPAXsi¥o 


THIS    VOLUME 

IS   LOVINGLY   DEDICATED   TO 
^'JOHNNIE" 


PREFACE 


M 


ONTHS  since,  with  much  doubt  and  diffidence,  I 
began  this  simple  story.  I  had  never  before  written 
expressly  for  young  people,  and  I  knew  that  the 
honest  little  critics  could  not  be  beguiled  with  words  which 
did  not  tell  an  interesting  story.  How  far  I  have  suc- 
ceeded, the  readers  of  this  volume,  and  of  the  "St. 
Nicholas"  magazine,  wherein  the  tale  appeared  as  a  serial, 
alone  can  answer. 

I  have  portrayed  no  actual  experience,  but  have  sought 
to  present  one  which  might  be  verified  in  real  life.  I  have 
tried  to  avoid  all  that  would  be  impossible  or  even  improbable. 
The  labors  performed  by  the  children  in  the  story  were  not 
unknown  to  my  own  hands,  in  childhood,  nor  would  they, 
form  tasks  too  severe  for  many  little  hands  now  idle  in  the 
cities. 

The  characters  are  all  imaginary ;  the  scenes,  in  the  main> 
are  real :  and  I  would  gladly  lure  other  families  from  tene- 
ment flats  into  green  pastures. 

E.  P.  K. 

CORNWALL-ON-THE-HUDSON, 

August  10,  1886. 

«  Rob— IX— F 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEK  I 
A  Problem 13 

CHAPTEK  II 

I  STATE   THE   CASE 19 

CHAPTEE  III 
JSFew  Prospects     .    * ...    .    .    23 

CHAPTEE   IV 
A  Momentous  Expedition 26 

CHAPTEE   V 
A  Country  Christmas  in  a  City  Flat     ....    28 

CHAPTEE    VI 
A  Bluff  Friend 32 

CHAPTEE  VII 
Mr.  Jones  Shows  me  the  Place B6 

CHAPTEE  VIII 
Telling  about  Eden 41 

CHAPTEE    IX 
^'Breaking  Camp" 44 

CHAPTEE   X 
Scenes  on  the  Wharf 47 

CHAPTEE  XI 

A  Voyage  up  the  Hudson 51 

.      (    ») 


10  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XII 
A  March  Evening  in  Eden 66 

CHAPTEE  XIII 
Rescued  and  at  Home 61 

CHAPTER   X.IV 
Self-denial  and  its  Reward 67 

CHAPTER   XV 
Our  Sunny  Kitchen 73 

CHAPTER  XYI 

Making  a  Place  for  Chickens 78 

CHAPTER  Xyil 
Good  Bargains  in  Maple  Sugar 82 

CHAPTER  X7III 
Butternuts  and  Bobsey's  Peril  .......    85 

CHAPTER  XIX 
John  Jones,  Jun 90 

CHAPTER  XX 
Raspberry  Lessons .95 

CHAPTER  XXI 
The  "Yandoo" 100 

CHAPTER  XXII 
Early  April  GtArdening 105 

CHAPTER  XXIII 
A  Bonfire  and  a  Feast Ill 

CHAPTER   XXIV 
*']Slo  Blind  Drifting" 117 

CHAPTER  XXV 
Owls  and  Antwerps 120 


CONTENTS  11 

CHAPTER  XXYI 
A  CouNTKY  Sunday 123 

CHAPTER  XXYII 
Strawberry  Visions  and  "Pertaters"     .    .    .    .126 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 
Corn,  Color,  and  Music 130 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

We  go  a-Fishing. 1^^ 

CHAPTER  XXX 

Weeds  and  Working  for  Dear  Life    .    ...    .  138 

CHAPTER  XXXI 
Nature  Smiles  and  Helps 144 

CHAPTER  XXXII 
Cherries,  Berries,  and  Berry-Thieves   ....  149 

CHAPTER   XXXIII 
Given  his  Choice 154 

:                         CHAPTER  XXXIV 
G-iVEN  A  Chance 159 

CHAPTER   XXXV 
"We  shall  all  earn  our  Salt"  , 166 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 
A  Thunderbolt 172 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 
Rallying  from  the  Blow 175 

CHAPTER   XXXVIII 
August  Work  and  Play 183 

CHAPTER   XXXIX 
A  Trip  to  the  Seashore 188 


12  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XL 
A  Visit  to  Houghton  Farm 193 

CHAPTER  XLI 
Hoarding  for  Winter 198 

CHAPTER  XLII 
Autumn  Work  and  Sport 203 

CHAPTER  XLIII 
Thanksgiving  Day 215 

CHAPTER  XLIV 
We  can  make  a  Living  in  Eden 218 


DRIVEN    BACK   TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER   I 

A     PROBLEM 

'W   7  HERE  are  the  children  r^ 
\/\  /  "They  can^t  be  far  away/'  replied  my  wife, 

^  ▼  looking  up  from  her  preparations  for  supper. 
*'Bobsey  was  here  a  moment  ago.  As  soon  as  my  back's 
turned  he's  out  and  away.  I  haven't  seen  Merton  since  he 
brought  his  books  from  school,  and  I  suppose  Winnie  is  up- 
stairs with  the  Daggetts." 

"I  wish,  my  dear,  you  could  keep  the  children  at  home 
more,"  I  said,  a  little  petulantly. 

"I  wish  you  would  go  and  find  them  for  me  now,  and 
to-morrow  take  my  place — for  just  one  day." 

"Well,  well,"  I  said,  with  a  laugh  that  had  no  mirth  in  it ; 
"only  one  of  your  wishes  stands  much  chance  of  being  carried 
out.  I'll  find  the  children  now  if  I  can  without  the  aid  of 
the  police.     Mousie,  do  you  feel  stronger  to-night?" 

These  words  were  spoken  to  a  pale  girl  of  fourteen,  who 
appeared  to  be  scarcely  more  than  twelve,  so  diminutive  was 
her  frame. 

^'Yes,  papa,"  she  replied,  a  faint  smile  flitting  like  a  ray 
of  light  across  her  features.  She  always  said  she  was  better, 
but  never  got  well.  Her  quiet  ways  and  tones  had  led  to  the 
household  name  of  "Mousie." 

As  I  was  descending  the  narrow  stairway  I  was  almost 
overthrown  by  a  torrent  of  children  pouring  down  from 
the  flats  above.     In  the  dim  light  of  a  gas-burner  I  saw  that 


14  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

Bobsey  was  one  of  the  reckless  atoms.  He  had  not  heard  my 
voice  in  the  uproar,  and  before  I  could  reach  him,  he  with 
the  others  had  burst  out  at  the  street  door  and  gone  tearing 
toward  the  nearest  corner.  It  seemed  that  he  had  slipped 
away  in  order  to  take  part  in  a  race,  and  I  found  him  "squar- 
ing off"  at  a  bigger  boy  who  had  tripped  him  up.  Without 
a  word  I  carried  him  home,  followed  by  the  jeers  and 
laughter  of  the  racers,  the  girls  making  their  presence  known 
in  the  early  December  twilight  by  the  shrillness  of  their 
voices  and  by  manners  no  gentler  than  those  of  the  boys. 

I  put  down  the  child — he  was  only  seven  years  of  age — 
in  the  middle  of  our  general  living-room,  and  looked  at  him. 
His  little  coat  was  split  out  in  the  back;  one  of  his  stockings, 
already  well-darned  at  the  knees,  was  past  remedy;  his 
hands  were  black,  and  one  was  bleeding;  his  whole 
little  body  was  throbbing  with  excitement,  anger,  and  violent 
exercise.  As  I  looked  at  him  quietly  the  defiant  expression 
in  his  eyes  began  to  give  place  to  tears. 

'There  is  no  use  in  punishing  him  now,"  said  my  wife. 
"Please  leave  him  to  me  and  find  the  others." 

"I  wasn't  going  to  punish  him,"  I  said. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?  What  makes  you  look  at 
him  so?" 

"He's  a  problem  I  can't  solve — with  the  given  condi- 
tions." 

"O  Robert,  you  drive  me  half  wild.  If  the  house  was 
on  fire  you'd  stop  to  follow  out  some  train  of  thought  about 
it  all.  I'm  tired  to  death.  Do  bring  the  children  home. 
When  we've  put  them  to  bed  you  can  figure  on  your  prob- 
lem, and  I  can  sit  down." 

"As  I  went  up  to  the  Daggetts'  flat  I  was  dimly  con- 
scious of  another  problem.  My  wife  was  growing  fretful 
and  nervous.  Our  rooms  would  not  have  satisfied  a  Dutch 
housewife,  but  if  "order  is  heaven's  first  law"  a  little  of 
Paradise  was  in  them  as  compared  to  the  Daggett-s'  apart- 
ments. "Yes,"  I  was  told,  in  response  to  my  inquiries; 
"Winnie  is  in  the  bed-room  with  Melissy." 


A    PROBLEM  15 

The  door  was  locked,  and  after  some  hesitation  the  girls 
opened  it.  As  we  were  going  downstairs  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  newspaper  in  my  girFs  pocket.  She  gave  it  to  me 
reluctantly,  and  said  ^^Melissy"  had  lent  it  to  her.  I  told  her 
to  help  her  mother  prepare  supper  while  I  went  to  find 
Merton.  Opening  the  paper  under  a  street  lamp,  I  found  it 
to  be  a  cheap,  vile  journal,  full  of  flashy  pictures  that  so 
often  offend  the  eye  on  news-stands.  With  a  chill  of  fear  I 
thought,  "Another  problem.''  The  Daggett  children  had 
had  the  scarlet  fever  a  few  months  before.  "But  here's  a 
worse  infection,"  I  reflected.  "Thank  heaven,  Winnie  is 
only  a  child,  and  can't  understand  these  pictures ;"  and  1  tore 
the  paper  up  and  thrust  it  into  its  proper  place,  the  gutter. 

"Now,"  I  muttered,  "I've  only  to  find  Merton  in  mis- 
chief to  make  the  evening's  experience  complete." 

In  mischief  I  did  find  him — a  very  harmful  kind  of  mis- 
chief, it  appeared  to  me.  Merton  was  little  over  fifteen, 
and  he  and  two  or  three  other  lads  were  smoking  cigarettes 
which,  to  judge  by  their  odor,  must  certainly  have  been 
made  from  the  sweepings  of  the  manufacturer's  floor. 

"Can't  you  find  anything  better  than  that  to  do  after 
school?"  I  asked,  severely. 

"Well,  sir,"  was  the  sullen  reply,  "I'd  like  to  know  what 
there  is  for  a  boy  to  do  in  this  street." 

During  the  walk  home  I  tried  to  think  of  an  answer  to 
his  implied  question.  What  would  I  do  if  I  were  in  Merton's 
place  ?  I  confess  that  I  was  puzzled.  After  sitting  in  school 
all  day  he  must  do  something  that  the  police  would  permit. 
There  certainly  seemed  very  little  range  of  action  for  a  grow- 
ing boy.  Should  I  take  him  out  of  school  and  put  him  into 
a  shop  or  an  office  ?  If  I  did  this  his  education  would  be  sadly 
limited.  Moreover  he  was  tall  and  slender  for  his  age,  and 
upon  his  face  there  was  a  pallor  which  I  dislike  to  see  in  a 
boy.  Long  hours  of  business  would  be  very  hard  upon  him, 
even  if  he  could  endure  the  strain  at  all.  The  problem 
which  had  been  pressing  on  me  for  months — almost  years — 
grew  urgent. 


16  -  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

With  clouded  brows  we  sat  down  to  our  modest  little 
supper.  Winifred,  my  wife,  was  hot  and  flushed  from  too 
near  acquaintance  with  the  stove,  and  wearied  by  a  long  day 
of  toil  in  a  room  that  would  be  the  better  for  a  gale  of  wind. 
Bobsey,  as  we  called  my  little  namesake,  was  absorbed — 
now  that  he  was  relieved  from  the  fear  of  punishment — 
by  the  wish  to  "punch"  the  boy  who  had  tripped  him  up. 
Winnie  was  watching  me  furtively,  and  wondering  what 
had  become  of  the  paper,  and  what  I  thought  of  it.  Merton 
was  somewhat  sullen,  and  a  little  ashamed  of  himself.  I 
felt  that  my  problem  was  to  give  these  children  something 
to  do  that  would  not  harm  them,  for  do  something  they  cer- 
tainly would.  They  were  rapidly  attaining  that  age  when 
the  shelter  of  a  narrow  city  flat  would  not  answer,  when  the 
influence  of  a  crowded  house  and  of  the  street  might  be 
greater  than  any  we  could  bring  to  bear  upon  them. 

I  looked  around  upon  the  little  group  for  whom  I  was 
responsible.  My  will  was  still  law  to  them.  While  my  little 
wife  had  positive  ways  of  her  own,  she  would  agree  to  any 
decided  course  that  I  resolved  upon.  The  children  were 
yet  under  entire  control,  so  that  I  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
commander-in-chief  of  the  little  band.  We  called  the  nar- 
row flat  we  lived  in  "home."  The  idea !  with  the  Daggetts 
above  and  the  Kicketts  on  the  floor  beneath.  It  was  not  a 
home,  and  was  scarcely  a  fit  camping-ground  for  such  a 
family  squad  as  ours.  Yet  we  had  stayed  on  for  years  in  this 
long,  narrow  line  of  rooms,  reaching  from  a  crowded  street 
to  a  little  back-yard  full  of  noisy  children  by  day,  and  noisier 
cats  by  night.  I  had  often  thought  of  moving,  but  had 
failed  to  find  a  better  shelter  that  was  within  my  very 
limited  means.  The  neighborhood  was  respectable,  so  far 
as  a  densely  populated  region  can  be.  It  was  not  very  dis- 
tant from  my  place  of  business,  and  my  work  often  kept  me  so 
late  at  the  office  that  we  could  not  live  in  the  suburb.  The 
rent  was  moderate  for  New  York,  and  left  me  some  money, 
after  food  and  clothing  were  provided,  for  occasional  little 
outings  and  pleasures,  which  I  believe  to  be  needed  by  both 


A    PROBLEM  17 

body  and  mind.  While  the  children  were  little — so  long  as 
they  would  "stay  put"  in  the  cradle  or  on  the  floor — we  did 
not  have  much  trouble.  Fortunately  I  had  good  health, 
and,  as  my  wife  said,  was  "handy  with  children.''  There- 
fore I  could  help  her  in  the  care  of  them  at  night,  and  she 
had  kept  much  of  her  youthful  bloom.  Heaven  had  blessed 
us.  We  had  met  with  no  serious  misfortunes,  nor  had  any 
of  our  number  been  often  prostrated  by  prolonged  and  dan- 
gerous illness.  But  during  the  last  year  my  wife  had  been 
growing  thin,  and  occasionally  her  voice  had  a  sharpness 
which  was  new.  Every  month  Bobsey  became  more  hard 
to  manage.  Our  living-room  was  to  him  like  a  cage  to  a  wild 
bird,  and  slip  away  he  would,  to  his  mother's  alarm;  for  he 
was  almost  certain  to  get  into  mischief  or  trouble.  The 
effort  to  perform  her  household  tasks  and  watch  over  him 
was  more  wearing  than  it  had  been  to  rock  him  through  long 
hours  at  night  when  he  was  a  teething  baby.  These  details 
seem  very  homely  no  doubt,  yet  such  as  these  largely  make  up 
our  lives.  Comfort  or  discomfort,  happiness  or  unhappiness, 
springs  from  them.  There  is  no  crop  in  the  country  so  im- 
portant as  that  of  boys  and  girls.  How  could  I  manage  my 
little  home-garden  in  a  flat  ? 

I  looked  thoughtfully  from  one  to  another,  as  with  chil- 
dren's appetites  they  became  absorbed  in  one  of  the  chief 
events  of  the  day. 

"Well,"  said  my  wife,  querulously,  "how  are  you  getting 
on  with  your  problem  ?" 

"Take  this  extra  bit  of  steak  and  I'll  tell  you  after  the 
children  are  asleep,"  I  said. 

"I  can't  eat  another  mouthful,"  she  exclaimed,  pushing 
back  her  almost  untasted  supper.  "Broiling  the  steak  was 
enough  for  me." 

"You  are  quite  tired  out,  dear,"  I  said,  very  gently. 

Her  face  softened  immediately  at  my  tone  and  tears  came 
into  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me,"  she  faltered. 
"I  am  so  nervous  some  days  that  I  feel  as  if  I  should  fly  to 


IS  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

pieces.  I  do  try  to  be  patient,  but  I  know  I'm  growing 
cross  F' 

^^Oh  now,  mamma/'  spoke  up  warm-hearted  Merton; 
"the  idea  of  your  being  cross." 

"She  is  cross/'  Bobsey  cried;  "she  boxed  my  ears  this 
very  day." 

"And  you  deserved  it/'  was  Merton's  retort.  "It's  a 
pity  they  are  not  boxed  oftener." 

"Yes,  Kobert,  I  did,"  continued  my  wife,  sorrowfully. 
"Bobsey  ran  away  four  times,  and  vexed  me  beyond  endur- 
ance, that  is,  such  endurance  as  I  have  left,  which  doesn't 
seem  to  be  very  much." 

"I  understand,  dear,"  I  said.  "You  are  a  part  of  my 
problem,  and  you  must  help  me  solve  it."  Then  I 
changed  the  subject  decidedly,  and  soon  brought  sunshine  to 
our  clouded  household.  Children's  minds  are  easily  diverted ; 
and  my  wife,  whom  a  few  sharp  words  would  have  greatly  ir- 
ritated, was  soothed,  and  her  curiosity  awakened  as  to  the 
subject  of  my  thoughts. 


I  STATE   MY   CASE  19 


CHAPTEK  II 

I   STATE  THE   CASE 

IPOISTDEEED  deeply  while  my  wife  and  Winnie  cleared 
away  the  dishes  and  put  Bobsey  into  his  little  crib.  I 
felt  that  the  time  for  a  decided  change  had  come,  and 
that  it  should  be  made  before  the  evils  of  our  lot  brought 
sharp  and  real  trouble. 

How  should  I  care  for  my  household?  If  I  had  been 
living  on  a  far  frontier  among  hostile  Indians  I  should  have 
known  better  how  to  protect  them.  I  could  build  a  house 
of  heavy  logs  and  keep  my  wife  and  children  always  near 
me  while  at  work.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  Melissa  Daggett 
and  her  kin  with  their  flashy  papers,  and  the  influence  of  the 
street  for  Merton  and  Bobsey,  involved  more  danger  to  my 
little  band  than  all  the  scalping  Modocs  that  ever  whooped. 
The  children  could  not  step  outside  the  door  without  danger 
of  meeting  some  one  who  would  do  them  harm.  It  is  the 
curse  of  crowded  city  life  that  there  is  so  little  of  a  natural 
and  attractive  sort  for  a  child  to  do,  and  so  much  of  evil  close 
at  hand. 

My  wife  asked  me  humorously  for  the  news.  She  saw 
that  I  was  not  reading  my  paper,  and  my  frowning  brow  and 
firm  lips  proved  my  problem  was  not  of  a  trifling  nature. 
She  suspected  nothing  more,  however,  than  that  I  was  think- 
ing of  taking  rooms  in  some  better  locality,  and  she  was 
wondering  how  I  could  do  it,  for  she  knew  that  my  income 
now  left  but  a  small  surplus  above  expenses. 

At  last  Winnie  too  was  ready  to  go  to  bed,  and  I  said  to 
her,  gravely :  "Here  is  money  to  pay  Melissa  for  that  paper. 


20  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

It  was  only  fit  for  the  gutter,  and  into  the  gutter  I  put  it. 
I  wish  you  to  promise  me  never  to  look  at  such  pictures  again, 
or  you  can  never  hope  to  grow  up  to  be  a  lady  like  mamma." 

The  child  flushed  deeply,  and  went  tearful  and  penitent 
to  bed.  Mousie  also  retired  with  a  wistful  look  upon  her 
face,  for  she  saw  that  something  of  grave  importance  oc- 
cupied my  mind. 

No  matter  how  tired  my  wife  might  be,  she  was  never 
satisfied  to  sit  down  until  the  room  had  been  put  in  order,  a 
green  cloth  spread  upon  the  supper-table  and  the  student 
lamp  placed  in  its  centre. 

Merton  brought  his  school-books,  and  my  wife  took  up  her 
mending,  and  we  three  sat  down  within  the  circle  of  light. 

"Don't  do  any  more  work  to-night,"  I  said,  looking  into 
my  wife's  face,  and  noting  for  a  few  moments  that  it  was 
losing  its  rounded  lines. 

Her  hands  dropped  wearily  into  her  lap,  and  she  began 
gratefully:  "I'm  glad  you  speak  so  kindly  to-night,  Rob- 
ert, for  I  am  so  nervous  and  out  of  sorts  that  I  couldn't  have 
stood  one  bit  of  fault-finding — I  should  have  said  things,  and 
then  have  been  sorry  all  day  to-morrow.  Dear  knows, 
each  day  brings  enough  without  carrying  anything  over. 
Come,  read  the  paper  to  me,  or  tell  me  what  you  have  been 
thinking  about  so  deeply,  if  you  don't  mind  Merton's  hear- 
ing you.  I  wish  to  forget  myself,  and  work,  and  everything 
that  worries  me,  for  a  little  while." 

"I'll  read  the  paper  first,  and  then,  after  Merton  has 
learned  his  lessons,  I  will  tell  you  my  thoughts — my  pur- 
pose, I  may  almost  say.  Merton  shall  know  about  it  soon,  for 
he  is  becoming  old  enough  to  understand  the  Vhy'  of 
things.  I  hope,  my  boy,  that  your  teacher  lays  a  good  deal 
of  stress  on  the  wky  in  all  your  studies." 

"Oh,   yes,    after   a   fashion." 

"Well,  so  far  as  I  am  your  teacher,  Merton,  I  wish  you 
always  to  think  why  you  should  do  a  thing  or  why  you 
shouldn't,  and  to  try  not  to  be  satisfied  with  any  reason  but  a 
good  one." 


1  STATE   THE   CASE  ffl. 

Then  I  gleaned  from  the  paper  such  items  as  I  thought 
would  interest  mj  wife.  At  last  we  were  alone,  with  no 
sound  in  the  room  but  the  low  roar  of  the  city,  a  roar  so  deep 
as  to  make  one  think  that  the  tides  of  life  were  breaking 
waves. 

I  was  doing  some  figuring  in  a  note-book  when  my  wife 
asked :  '^Eobert,  what  is  your  problem  to-night  ?  And  what 
part  have  I  in  it  ?" 

"So  important  a  part  that  I  couldn't  solve  it  without 
you,"  I  replied,  smiling  at  her. 

"Oh,  come  now,"  she  said,  laughing  slightly  for  the  first 
time  in  the  evening ;  "you  always  begin  to  flatter  a  little  when 
you  want  to  carry  a  point." 

"Well,  then,  you  are  on  your  guard  against  my  wiles. 
But  believe  me,  Winifred,  the  problem  on  my  mind  is  not 
like  one  of  my  ordinary  brown  studies;  in  those  I  often  try 
to  get  back  to  the  wherefore  of  things  which  people  usually 
accept  and  don't  bother  about.  The  question  I  am  consider- 
ing comes  right  home  to  us,  and  we  must  meet  it.  I  have 
felt  for  some  time  that  we  could  not  put  off  action  much 
longer,  and  to-night  I  am  convinced  of  it." 

Then  I  told  her  how  I  had  found  three  of  the  children  en- 
gaged that  evening,  concluding :  "The  circumstances  of  their 
lot  are  more  to  blame  than  they  themselves.  And  why 
should  I  find  fault  with  you  because  you  are  nervous  ?  You 
could  no  more  help  being  nervous  and  a  little  impatient  than 
you  could  prevent  the  heat  of  the  lamp  from  burning  you, 
should  you  place  your  finger  over  it.  I  know  the  cause  of  it 
all.  As  for  Mousie,  she  is  growing  paler  and  thinner  every 
day.  You  know  what  my  income  is;  we  could  not  change 
things  much  for  the  better  by  taking  other  rooms  and  moving 
to  another  part  of  the  city,  and  we  might  find  that  we  had 
changed  for  the  worse.  I  propose  that  we  go  to  the  country 
and  get  our  living  out  of  the  soil." 

"Why,  Kobert!  what  do  you  know  about  farming  or 
gardening  ?" 

"^N'ot  very  much,  but  I  am  not  yet  too  old  to  learn; 


22  DRIVEN   BACK   TO   EDEN 

and  there  would  be  something  for  the  children  to  do  at  once, 
pure  air  for  them  to  breathe,  and  space  for  them  to  grow 
healthfully  in  body,  mind,  and  soul.  You  know  I  have  but 
little  money  laid  by,  and  am  not  one  of  those  smart  men 
who  can  push  their  way.  I  don't  know  much  besides  book- 
keeping, and  my  employers  think  I  am  not  remarkably 
quick  at  that.  I  can't  seem  to  acquire  the  lightning  speed 
with  which  things  are  done  nowadays;  and  while  I  try  to 
make  up  by  long  hours  and  honesty,  I  don't  believe  I  could 
ever  earn  much  more  than  I  am  getting  now,  and  you  know 
it  doesn't  leave  much  of  a  margin  for  sickness  or  mis- 
fortune of  any  kind.  After  all,  what  does  my  salary  give 
us  but  food  and  clothing  and  shelter,  such  as  it  is,  with 
a  little  to  spare  in  some  years?  It  sends  a  cold  chill  to  my 
heart  to  think  what  should  become  of  you  and  the  chil- 
dren if  I  should  be  sick  or  anything  should  happen  to  me. 
Still,  it  is  the  present  welfare  of  the  children  that  weighs 
most  on  my  mind,  Winifred.  They  are  no  longer  little 
things  that  you  can  keep  in  these  rooms  and  watch  over; 
there  is  danger  for  them  just  outside  that  door.  It 
wouldn't  be  so  if  beyond  the  door  lay  a  garden  and  fields 
and  woods.  You,  my  overtaxed  wife,  wouldn't  worry 
about  them  the  moment  they  were  out  of  sight,  and  my  work, 
instead  of  being  away  from  them  all  day,  .could  be  with 
them.  And  all  could  do  something,  even  down  to  pale 
Mousie  and  little  Bobsey.  Outdoor  life  and  pure  air,  instead 
of  that  breathed  over  and  over,  would  bring  quiet  to  your 
nerves  and  the  roses  back  to  your  cheeks.  The  children 
would  grow  sturdy  and  strong;  much  of  their  work  would  be 
like  play  to  them;  they  wouldn't  be  always  in  contact  with 
other  children  that  we  know  nothing  about.  I  am  aware 
that  the  country  isn't  Eden,  as  we  have  imagined  it — for  I 
lived  there  as  a  boy — ^but  it  seems  like  Eden  compared  to 
this  place  and  its  surroundings ;  and  I  feel  as  if  I  were  being 
driven  back  to  it  by  circumstances  I  can't  control." 


NEW  PROSPECTS  ^ 


CHAPTER  in 

NEW     PEOSPECTS 

THERE  is  no  need  of  dwelling  further  on  the  reasons 
for  or  against  the  step  we  proposed.  We  thought 
a  great  deal  and  talked  it  over  several  times.  Fi- 
nally my  wife  agreed  that  the  change  would  be  wise  and 
best  for  all.  Then  the  children  were  taken  into  our  con- 
fidence, and  they  became  more  delighted  every  day  as  the 
prospect  grew  clearer  to  them. 

"We'll  all  be  good  soon,  won't  we?''  said  my  youngest, 
who  had  a  rather  vivid  sense  of  his  own  shortcomings,  and 
kept  them  in  the  minds  of  others  as  well. 

"Why  so,  Bobsey?" 

"'Cause  mamma  says  that  God  put  the  first  people  in  a 
garden  and  they  was  very  good,  better'n  any  folks  after- 
wards.    God  oughter  know  the  best  place  for  people." 

Thus  Bobsey  gave  a  kind  of  divine  sanction  to  our  proj- 
ect. Of  course  we  had  not  taken  so  important  a  step 
without  asking  the  Great  Father  of  all  to  guide  us;  for  we 
felt  that  in  the  mystery  of  life  we  too  were  but  little  chil- 
dren who  knew  not  what  should  be  on  the  morrow,  or  how 
best  to  provide  for  it  with  any  certainty.  To  our  sanguine 
minds  there  was  in  Bobsey's  words  a  hint  of  something  more 
than  permission  to  go  up  out  of  Egypt. 

So  it  was  settled  that  we  should  leave  our  narrow  suit^ 
of  rooms,  the  Daggetts  and  the  Ricketts,  and  go  to  the  coun- 
try. To  me  naturally  fell  the  task  of  finding  the  land  flow- 
ing with  milk  and  honey  to  which  we  should  journey  in 


24  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

the  spring.     Meantime  we  were  already  emigrants  at  heart, 
full  of  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  mental  preparation. 

I  prided  myself  somewhat  on  my  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  which,  in  regard  to  children,  conformed  to  compara- 
tively simple  laws.  I  knew  that  the  change  would  involve 
plenty  of  hard  work,  self-denial  and  careful  managing,  which 
nothing  could  redeem  from  prose;  but  I  aimed  to  add  to  our 
exodus,  so  far  as  possible,  the  elements  of  adventure  and 
mystery  so  dear  to  the  hearts  of  children.  The  question 
where  we  should  go  was  the  cause  of  much  discussion,  the 
studying  of  maps,  and  the  learning  of  not  a  little  geography. 

Morton's  counsel  was  that  we  should  seek  a  region 
abounding  in  Indians,  bears,  and  "such  big  game.''  His 
advice  made  clear  the  nature  of  some  of  his  recent  read- 
ing. He  proved,  however,  that  he  was  not  wanting  in  sense 
by  his  readiness  to  give  up  these  attractive  features  in  the 
choice  of  locality. 

Mousie's  soft  black  eyes  always  lighted  up  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  flower-garden  that  should  be  as  big  as  our  sitting- 
room.  Even  in  our  city  apartments,  poisoned  by  gas  and 
devoid  of  sunlight,  she  usually  managed  to  keep  a  little 
house-plant  in  bloom,  and  the  thought  of  placing  seeds  in  the 
open  ground,  where,  as  she  said,  "the  roots  could  go  down  to 
China  if  they  wanted  to,"  brought  the  first  color  I  had  seen 
in  her  face  for  many  a  day. 

Winnie  was  our  strongest  child,  and  also  the  one  who 
gave  me  the  most  anxiety.  Impulsive,  warm-hearted,  rest- 
less, she  always  made  me  think  of  an  overfull  fountain.  Her  - 
alert  black  eyes  were  as  eager  to  see  as  was  her  inquisitive 
mind  to  pry  into  everything.  She  was  sturdily  built  for  a 
girl,  and  one  of  the  severest  punishments  we  could  inflict 
was  to  place  her  in  a  chair  and  tell  her  not  to  move  for 
an  hour.  We  were  beginning  to  learn  that  we  could  no 
more  keep  her  in  our  sitting-room  than  we  could  restrain 
a  mountain  brook  that  foams  into  a  rocky  basin  only  to  foam 
out  again.  Melissa  Daggett  was  of  a  very  different  type — 
I  could  never  see  her  without  the  word  "sly"  coming  into 


NEW   PROSPECTS  25 

my  mind — and  her  small  mysteries  awakened  Winnie's  curi- 
osity, l^ow  that  the  latter  was  promised  chickens,  and  rambles 
in  the  woods,  Melissa  and  her  secrets  became  insignificant, 
and  the  ready  promise  to  keep  aloof  from  her  was  given. 

As  for  Bobsey,  he  should  have  a  pig  which  he  could 
name  and  call  his  own,  and  for  which  he  might  pull  weeds 
and  pick  up  apples.  We  soon  found  that  he  was  commun- 
ing with  that  phantom  pig  in  his  dreams. 


26  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    MOMENTOUS   EXPEDITION 

BY  the  time  Christmas  week  began  we  all  had  agreed 
to  do  without  candy,  toys,  and  knick-knacks,  and  to 
buy  books  that  would  tell  us  how  to  live  in  the 
country.  One  happy  eyening  we  had  an  early  supper  and 
all  went  to  a  well-known  agricultural  store  and  publishing- 
house  on  Broadway,  each  child  almost  awed  by  the  fact  that 
I  had  fifteen  dollars  in  my  pocket  which  should  be  spent 
that  very  night  in  the  purchase  of  books  and  papers.  To  the 
children  the  shop  seemed  like  a  place  where  tickets  direct  to 
Eden  were  obtained,  while  the  colored  pictures  of  fruits 
and  vegetables  could  portray  the  products  of  Eden  only, 
so  different  were  they  in  size  and  beauty  from  the  speci- 
mens appearing  in  our  market  stalls.  Stuffed  birds  and  ani- 
mals were  also  on  the  shelves,  and  no  epicure  ever  enjoyed 
the  gamy  flavor  as  we  did.  But  when  we  came  to  examine 
the  books,  their  plates  exhibiting  almost  every  phase  of 
country  work  and  production,  we  felt  like  a  long  vista  leading 
toward  our  unknown  home  was  opening  before  us,  illumined 
by  alluring  pictures.  To  Winnie  was  given  a  book  on 
poultry,  and  the  cuts  representing  the  various  birds  were 
even  more  to  her  taste  than  cuts  from  the  fowls  themselves 
at  a  Christmas  dinner.  The  Nimrod  instincts  of  the  race 
were  awakened  in  Merton,  and  I  soon  found  that  he  had 
set  his  heart  on  a  book  that  gave  an  account  of  game,  fish, 
birds,  and  mammals.  It  was  a  natural  and  wholesome  longing. 
I  myself  had  felt  it  keenly  when  a  boy.  Such  country 
sport  would  bring  sturdiness  to  his  limbs  and  the  right  kind 
of  color  into  his  face. 


A   MOMENTOUS   EXPEDITION  27 

^'AU  right,  Merton,"  I  said:  "you  shall  have  the  book 
and  a  breech-loading  shot-gun  also.  As  for  fishing-tackle, 
you  can  get  along  with  a  pole  cut  from  the  woods  until  you 
have  earned  money  enough  yourself  to  buy  what  you  need.'' 

The  boy  was  almost  overwhelmed.  He  came  to  me,  and 
took  my  hand  in  both  his  own. 

"O  papa,''  he  faltered,  and  his  eyes  were  moist,  "did 
you  say  a  gun  ?" 

"Yes,  a  breech-loading  shot-gun  on  one  condition — that 
you'll  not  smoke  till  after  you  are  twenty-one.  A  growing 
boy  can't  smoke  in  safety." 

He  gave  my  hand  a  quick,  strong  pressure,  and  was 
immediately  at  the  farther  end  of  the  store,  blowing  his 
nose  suspiciously.  I  chuckled  to  myself:  "I  want  no  better 
promise.  A  gun  will  cure  him  of  cigarettes  better  than  a 
tract  would." 

Mousie  was  quiet,  as  usual;  but  there  was  again  a  faint 
color  in  her  cheeks,  a  soft  lustre  in  her  eyes.  I  kept  near  my 
invalid  child  most  of  the  time,  for  fear  that  she  would  go 
beyond  her  strength.  I  made  her  sit  by  a  table,  and  brought 
the  books  that  would  interest  her  most.  Her  sweet,  thin 
face  was  a  study,  and  I  felt  that  she  was  already  enjoying 
the  healing  caresses  of  Mother  Nature.  When  we  started 
homeward  she  carried  a  book  about  flowers  next  to  her  heart. 

Bobsey  taxed  his  mother's  patience  and  agility,  for  he 
seemed  all  over  the  store  at  the  same  moment,  and  wanted 
everything  in  it,  being  sure  that  fifteen  dollars  would  buy 
all  and  leave  a  handsome  margin ;  but  at  last  he  was  content 
with  a  book  illustrated  from  beginning  to  end  with  pigs. 

What  pleased  me  most  was  to  see  how  my  wife  enjoyed 
our  little  outing.  Wrapped  up  in  the  children,  she  reflected 
their  joy  in  her  face,  and  looked  almost  girlish  in  her  happi- 
ness. I  whispered  in  her  ear,  "Your  present  shall  be  the  home 
itself,  for  I  shall  have  the  deed  made  out  in  your  name, 
and  then  you  can  turn  me  out-of-doors  as  often  as  you 
please." 

"Which  will  be  every  pleasant  day  after  breakfast,"  she 


28  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

said,  laughing.  "You  know  you  are  very  safe  in  giving 
things  to  me." 

"Yes,  Winifred,"  I  replied,  pressing  her  hand  on  the  sly ; 
"I  have  been  finding  that  out  ever  since  I  gave  myself  to  you." 

I  bought  Henderson's  "Gardening  for  Profit"  and  some 
other  practical  books.  I  also  subscribed  for  a  journal  de- 
voted to  rural  interests  and  giving  simple  directions  for 
the  work  of  each  month.  At  last  we  returned.  Never 
did  a  jollier  little  procession  march  up  Broadway.  People 
were  going  to  the  opera  and  evening  companies,  and  carriages 
rolled  by,  filled  with  elegantly  dressed  ladies  and  gentle- 
men; but  my  wife  remarked,  "itTone  of  those  people  are  so 
happy  as  we  are,  trudging  in  this  roundabout  way  to  our 
country  home." 

Her  words  suggested  our  course  of  action  during  the 
months  which  must  intervene  before  it  would  be  safe  or 
wise  for  us  to  leave  the  city.  Our  thoughts,  words,  and  ac- 
tions were  all  a  roundabout  means  to  our  cherished  end,  and 
yet  the  most  direct  way  that  we  could  take  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. Field  and  garden  were  covered  with  snow,  the 
ground  was  granite-like  from  frost,  and  winter's  cold  breath 
chilled  our  impatience  to  be  gone ;  but  so  far  as  possible  we 
lived  in  a  country  atmosphere,  and  amused  ourselves  by  try- 
ing to  conform  to  country  ways  in  a  city  flat.  Even  Win- 
nie declared  she  heard  the  cocks  crowing  at  dawn,  while 
Bobsey  had  a  different  kind  of  grunt  or  squeal  for  every 
pig  in  his  book. 

CHAPTER  V 

A  COUNTEY   CHRISTMAS  IN  A  CITY   FLAT 

ON  Christmas  morning  we  all  brought  out  our  pur- 
chases and  arranged  them  on  a  table.  Merton 
was  almost  wild  when  he  found  a  bright  single- 
barrelled  gun  with  accoutrements  standing  in  the  corner. 
Even  Mousie  exclaimed  with  delight  at  the  bright-colored 
papers  of  flower-seeds  on  her  plate.     To  Winnie  were  given 


A    COUISTRY    CHRISTMAS    IN    A    CITY    FLAT  29 

half  a  dozen  china  eggs  with  which  to  lure  the  prospective 
biddies  to  lay  in  nests  easily  reached,  and  she  tried  to  cackle 
over  them  in  absurd  imitation.  Little  Bobsey  had  to  have 
some  toys  and  candy,  but  they  all  presented  to  his  eyes  the 
natural  inmates  of  the  barn-yard.  In  the  number  of  do- 
mestic animals  he  swallowed  that  day  he  equalled  the  little 
boy  in  Hawthorne's  story  of  "The  House  of  the  Seven 
Gables,"  who  devoured  a  ginger-bread  caravan  of  camels 
and  elephants  purchased  at  Miss  Hepzibah  Pyncheon's  shop. 

Our  Christmas  dinner  consisted  almost  wholly  of  such 
vegetables  as  we  proposed  to  raise  in  the  coming  summer. 
Never  before  were  such  connoisseurs  of  carrots,  beats,  onions, 
parsnips,  and  so  on  through  almost  the  entire  list  of  such  win- 
ter stock  as  was  to  be  obtained  at  our  nearest  green-grocery. 
We  celebrated  the  day  by  nearly  a  dozen  dishes  which  the 
children  aided  my  wife  in  preparing.  Then  I  had  Merton 
figure  the  cost  of  each,  and  we  were  surprised  at  the  cheap- 
ness of  much  of  country  fare,  even  when  retailed  in  very 
small  quantities. 

This  brought  up  another  phase  of  the  problem.  In 
many  respects  I  was  like  the  children,  having  almost  as 
much  to  learn  as  they — with  the  advantage,  however,  of  be- 
ing able  to  correct  impressions  by  experience.  In  other 
words,  I  had  more  judgment;  and  while  I  should  certainly 
make  mistakes,  not  many  of  them  would  be  absurd  or  often 
repeated.  I  was  aware  that  most  of  the  homely  kitchen 
vegetables  cost  comparatively  little,  even  though  (having 
in  our  flat  no  good  place  for  storage)  we  had  found  it  better 
to  buy  what  we  needed  from  day  to  day.  It  was  there- 
fore certain  that,  at  wholesale  in  the  country,  they  would 
often  be  exceedingly  cheap.  This  fact  would  work  both 
ways:  little  money  would  purchase  much  food  of  certain 
kinds,  and  if  we  produced  these  articles  of  food  they  would 
bring  us  little  money. 

I  will  pass  briefly  over  the  period  that  elapsed  before  it 
was  time  for  us  to  depart,  assured  that  the  little  people  who 
are  following  this  simple  history  are  as  eager  to  get  away 


30  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

from  the  dusty  city  flat  to  the  sunlight,  breezy  fields,  brooks, 
and  woods  as  were  the  children  in  my  story.  It  is  enough 
to  say  that,  during  all  my  waking  hours  not  devoted  to  busi- 
ness, I  read,  thought,  and  studied  on  the  problem  of  sup- 
porting my  family  in  the  country.  I  haunted  Washington 
Market  in  the  gray  dawn  and  learned  from  much  inquiry 
what  products  found  a  ready  and  certain  sale  at  some  price, 
and  what  appeared  to  yield  to  the  grower  the  best  profits. 
There  was  much  conflict  of  opinion,  but  I  noted  down  and 
averaged  the  statements  made  to  me.  Many  of  the  market- 
men  had  hobbies,  and  told  me  how  to  make  a  fortune  out 
of  one  or  two  articles;  more  gave  careless,  random,  or  ig- 
norant answers;  but  here  and  there  was  a  plain,  honest, 
sensible  fellow  who  showed  me  from  his  books  what  plain, 
honest,  sensible  producers  in  the  country  were  doing.  In  a 
few  weeks  I  dismissed  finally  the  tendency  to  one  blunder. 
A  novice  hears  or  reads  of  an  acre  of  cabbages  or  straw- 
berries producing  so  much.  Then  he  figures,  ^^if  one  acre 
yields  so  much,  two  acres  will  give  'twice  as  much,"  and  so 
on.  The  experience  of  others  showed  me  the  utter  folly 
of  aU  this;  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  could  give 
my  family  shelter,  plain  food,  pure  air,  wholesome  work 
and  play  in  plenty,  and  that  not  very  soon  could  I  provide 
much  else  with  certainty.  I  tried  to  stick  closely  to  com- 
mon-sense; and  the  humble  circumstances  of  the  vast  ma- 
jority living  from  the  soil  proved  that  there  was  in  these 
pursuits  no  easy  or  speedy  road  to  fortune.  Therefore  we 
must  part  reluctantly  with  every  penny,  and  let  a  dollar 
go  for  only  the  essentials  to  the  modest  success  now  ac- 
cepted as  all  we  could  naturally  expect.  We  had  explored 
the  settled  States,  and  even  the  Territories,  in  fancy;  we 
had  talked  over  nearly  every  industry  from  cotton  and  sugar- 
cane planting  to  a  sheep-ranch.  I  encouraged  all  this,  for 
it  was  so  much  education  out  of  school-hours;  yet  all,  even 
Merton,  eventually  agreed  with  me  that  we  had  better  not 
go  far  away,  but  seek  a  place  near  schools,  markets,  churches, 
and  well  inside  of  civilization. 


A    COUNTRY   CHRISTMAS    IN    A    CITY   FLAT 


31 


"See  here,  youngsters,  you  forget  the  most  important 
crop  of  all  that  I  must  cultivate,"  I  said  one  evening. 

"What  is  that?''  they  cried  in  chorus. 

"A  crop  of  boys  and  girls.  You  may  think  that  my  mind 
is  chiefly  on  corn  and  potatoes.  Not  at  all.  It  is  chiefly  on 
you ;  and  for  your  sakes  mamma  and  I  decided  to  go  to  the 
country." 

At  last,  in  reply  to  my  inquiries  and  my  answers  to  ad- 
vertisements, I  received  the  following  letter: — 

I  had  been  to  see  two  or  three  places  that  had  been 
"cracked  up"  so  highly  that  my  wife  thought  it  better  to 
close  the  bargain  at  once  before  some  one  else  secured  the 
prize — and  I  had  come  back  disgusted  in  each  instance. 

"The  soul  of  wit"  was  in  John  Jones's  letter.  There 
was  also  a  downright  directness  which  hit  the  mark,  and  I 
wrote  that  I  would  go  to  Maizeville  in  the  course  of  the  fol- 
lowing  week.  Ro«h-IX-Q 


32  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  VI 

A     BLUFF     FRIEND 

THE  almanac  had  announced  spring;  nature  appeared 
•  quite  unaware  of  the  fact,  but,  so  far  as  we  were 
concerned,  the  almanac  was  right.  Spring  was  the 
era  of  hope,  of  change,  and  hope  was  growing  in  our  hearts 
like  "Jack's  bean,''  in  spite  of  lowering  wintry  skies.  We 
were  as  eager  as  robins,  sojourning  in  the  south,  to  take  our 
flight  northward. 

My  duties  to  my  employers  had  ceased  the  1st  of  March : 
I  had  secured  tenants  who  would  take  possession  of  our 
rooms  as  soon  as  we  should  leave  them;  and  now  every 
spare  moment  was  given  to  studying  the  problem  of  country 
living  and  to  preparations  for  departure.  I  obtained  il- 
lustrated catalogues  from  several  dealers  in  seeds,  and  we 
pored  over  them  every  evening.  At  first  they  bewildered 
us  with  their  long  lists  of  varieties,  while  the  glowing  de- 
scriptions of  new  kinds  of  vegetables  just  being  introduced 
awakened  in  us  something  of  a  gambling  spirit. 

"How  fortunate  it  is,"  exclaimed  my  wife,  "that  we  are 
going  to  the  country  just  as  the  vegetable  marvels  were 
discovered!  Why,  Robert,  if  half  of  what  is  said  is  true, 
we  shall  make  our  fortunes." 

With  us,  hitherto,  a  beet  had  been  a  beet,  and  a  cab- 
bage a  cabbage;  but  here  were  accounts  of  beets  which,  as 
Merton  said,  "beat  all  creation,"  and  pictures  of  prodigious 
cabbage  heads  which  well-nigh  turned  our  own.  With  a 
blending  of  hope  and  distrust  I  carried  two  of  the  catalogues 


A    BLUFF   FRIEND      \  88 

to  a  shrewd  old  fellow  in  Washington  Market.  He  was 
a  dealer  in  country  produce  who  had  done  business  so  long 
at  the  same  stand  that  among  his  fellows  he  was  looked  upon 
as  a  kind  of  patriarch.  During  a  former  interview  he  had 
replied  to  my  questions  with  a  blunt  honesty  that  had  in- 
spired confidence. 

The  day  was  somewhat  mild,  and  I  found  him  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  smoking  his  pipe  among  his  piled-up  barrels, 
boxes,  and  crates,  after  his  eleven  o'clock  dinner.  His  day's 
work  was  practically  over;  and  well  it  might  be,  for,  like 
others  of  his  calling,  he  had  begun  it  long  before  dawn. 
Now  his  old  felt  hat  was  pushed  well  back  on  his  bald  head, 
and  his  red  face,  fringed  with  a  grizzled  beard,  expressed 
a  sort  of  heavy,  placid  content.  His  small  gray  eyes 
twinkled  as  shrewdly  as  ever.  With  his  pipe  he  indicated 
a  box  on  which  I  might  sit  while  we  talked. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Bogart,"  I  began,  showing  him  the  seed 
catalogues,  "how  is  a  man  to  choose  wisely  what  vegetables 
he  will  raise  from  a  list  as  long  as  your  arm?  Perhaps  I 
shouldn't  take  any  of  those  old-fashioned  kinds,  but  go  into 
these  wonderful  novelties  which  promise  a  new  era  in  horti- 
culture." 

The  old  man  gave  a  contemptuous  grunt;  then,  remov- 
ing his  pipe,  he  blew  out  a  cloud  of  smoke  that  half  obscured 
us  both  as  he  remarked,  gruffly,  "  ^A  fool  and  his  money  are 
soon  parted.'  " 

This  was  about  as  rough  as  March  weather;  but  I  knew 
my  man,  and  perhaps  proved  that  I  wasn't  a  fool  by  not  part- 
ing with  him  then  and  there. 

"Come  now,  neighbor,"  I  said,  brusquely,  "I  know  some 
things  that  you  don't,  and  there  are  affairs  in  which  I  could 
prove  you  to  be  as  green  as  I  am  in  this  matter.  If  you 
came  to  me  I'd  give  you  the  best  advice  that  I  could,  and 
be  civil  about  it  into  the  bargain.  I've  come  to  you  because 
I  believe  you  to  be  honest  and  to  know  what  I  don't.  When 
I  tell  you  that  I  have  a  little  family  dependent  on  me,  and 
that  I  mean  if  possible  to  get  a  living  for  them  out  of  the 


34  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

soil,  I  believe  you  are  man  enough  both  to  fall  in  with  my 
plan  and  to  show  a  little  friendly  interest.  If  you  are  not, 
I'll  go  farther  and  fare  better.'' 

As  I  fired  this  broadside  he  looked  at  me  askance,  with 
the  pipe  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  then  reached  out  his 
great  brown  paw,  and  said, — 

"Shake." 

I  knew  it  was  all  right  now — that  the  giving  of  his 
hand  meant  not  only  a  treaty  of  peace  but  also  a  friendly 
alliance.  The  old  fellow  discoursed  vegetable  wisdom  so 
steadily  for  half  an  hour  that  his  pipe  went  out. 

"You  jest  let  that  new-fangled  truck  alone,"  he  said, 
"till  you  get  more  forehanded  in  cash  and  experience.  Then 
you  may  learn  how  to  make  something  out  of  them  novelties, 
as  they  call  'em,  if  they  are  worth  growing  at  all.  Now  and 
then  a  good  penny  is  turned  on  a  new  fruit  or  vegetable; 
but  how  to  do  it  will  be  one  of  -the  last  tricks  that  you'll 
learn  in  your  new  trade.  Hand  me  one  of  them  misleadin' 
books,  and  I'll  mark  a  few  solid  kinds  such  as  produce  ninety- 
nine  hundredths  of  all  that's  used  or  sold.  Then  you  go  to 
What-you-call-'em's  store,  and  take  a  line  from  me,  and  you'll 
git  the  genuine  article  at  market-gardeners'  prices." 

"IN'ow,  Mr.  Bogart,  you  are  treating  me  like  a  man  and 
a  brother." 

"Oh  thunder!  I'm  treating  you  like  one  who,  p'raps, 
may  deal  with  me.  Do  as  you  please  about  it,  but  if  you 
want  to  take  along  a  lot  of  my  business  cards  and  fasten  'em 
to  anything  you  have  to  sell,  I'll  give  you  all  they  bring,  less 
my  commission." 

"I've  no  doubt  you  will,  and  that's  more  than  I  can 
believe  of  a  good  many  in  your  line,  if  all's  true  that  I 
hear.  You  have  thrown  a  broad  streak  of  daylight  into  my 
future.  So  you  see  the  fool  didn't  part  with  his  money, 
or  with  you  either,  until  he  got  a  good  deal  more  than  he 
expected." 

Well,  well,  Mr.  Durham,  you'll  have  to  get  used  to  my 
rough  ways.     When  I've  anything  to  say,  I  don't  beat  about 


A    BLUFF   FRIEND  35 

the  bush.     But  you'll  always  find  my  checks  good  for  their 
face." 

"Yes,  and  the  face  back  of  them  is  that  of  a  friend 
to  me  now.  We'll  shake  again.  Good-by;"  and  I  went 
home  feeling  as  if  I  had  solid  ground  under  my  feet.  At 
supper  I  went  over  the  whole  scene,  taking  off  the  man  in 
humorous  pantomime,  not  ridicule,  and  even  my  wife  grew 
hilarious  over  her  disappointed  hopes  of  the  "new-fangled 
truck."  I  managed,  however,  that  the  children  should  not 
lose  the  lesson  that  a  rough  diamond  is  better  than  a  smooth 
paste  stone,  and  that  people  often  do  themselves  an  injury 
when  they  take  offence  too  easily. 

"I  see  it  all,  papa,"  chuckled  Merton;  "if  you  had  gone  off 
mad  when  he  the  same  as  called  you  a  fool,  you  would  have 
lost  all  his  good  advice." 

"I  should  have  lost  much  more  than  that,  my  boy,  I 
should  have  lost  the  services  of  a  good  friend  and  an  honest 
man  to  whom  we  can  send  for  its  full  worth  whatever  we 
can't  sell  to  better  advantage  at  home.  But  don't  mistake 
me,  Merton,  toadyism  never  pays,  no  matter  what  you  may 
gain  by  it;  for  you  give  manhood  for  such  gain,  and  that's 
a  kind  of  property  that  one  can  never  part  with  and  make 
a  good  bargain.  You  see  the  old  man  didn't  mean  to  be  in- 
solent. As  he  said,  it  was  only  his  rough,  blunt  way  of  say- 
ing what  was  uppermost  in  his  mind." 


86  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  Vn 

MR.    JONES  SHOWS   ME   THE   PLACE 

THE  next  day,  according  to  appointment,  I  went  to 
Maizeville.  John  Jones  met  me  at  the  station,  and 
drove  me  in  his  box-sleigh  to  see  the  farm  he  had 
written  of  in  his  laconic  note.  I  looked  at  him  curiously 
as  we  jogged  along  over  the  melting  snow.  The  day  was 
unclouded  for  a  wonder,  and  the  sun  proved  its  increasing 
power  by  turning  the  sleigh-tracks  in  the  road  into  gleaming 
rills.  The  visage  of  my  new  acquaintance  formed  a  decided 
contrast  to  the  rubicund  face  of  the  beef -eating  marketman. 
He  was  sandy  even  to  his  eyebrows  and  complexion.  His 
scraggy  beard  suggested  poverty  of  soil  on  his  lantern  jaws. 
His  frame  was  as  gaunt  as  that  of  a  scare-crow,  and  his  hands 
and  feet  were  enormous.  He  had  one  redeeming  feature, 
however — a  pair  of  blue  eyes  that  looked  straight  at  you 
and  made  you  feel  that  there  was  no  "crookedness"  be- 
hind them. 

His  brief  letter  had  led  me  to  expect  a  man  of  few  words, 
but  I  soon  found  that  John  Jones  was  a  talker  and  a  good- 
natured  gossip.  He  knew  every  one  we  met,  and  was  usu- 
ally greeted  with  a  rising  inflection,  like  this,  "How  are 
you,  John?" 

We  drove  inland  for  two  or  three  miles. 

"No,  I  didnH  crack  up  the  place,  and  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to,"  said  my  real-estate  agent.  "As  I  wrote  you,  you  can  see 
for  yourself  when  we  get  there,  and  I'll  answer  all  questions 
square.  I've  got  the  sellin'  of  the  property,  and  I  mean  it 
shall  be  a  good  bargain,  good  for  me  and  good  for  him  who 


MR.   JONES   SHOWS    ME    THE   PLACE  37 

buys.  I  don't  intend  havin'  any  neighbors  around  blamin' 
me  for  a  fraud ;''  and  that  is  all  he  would  say  about  it. 

On  we  went,  over  hills  and  down  dales,  surrounded  by 
scenery  that  seemed  to  me  beautiful  beyond  r.11  words,  even 
in  its  wintry  aspect. 

"What  mountain  is  that  standing  off  by  itself  ?''  I  asked. 

"Schunemunk,''  he  said.  "Your  place — well,  I  guess 
it  will  be  yours  before  plantin'-time  comes — faces  that 
mountain  and  looks  up  the  valley  between  it  and  the  main 
highlands  on  the  left.  Yonder's  the  house,  on  the  slope  of 
this  big  round  hill,  that'll  shelter  you  from  the  north  winds,'* 

I  shall  not  describe  the  place  very  fully  now,  preferring 
that  it  should  be  seen  through  the  eyes  of  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren, as  well  as  my  own. 

"The  dwelling  appears  old,"  I  said. 

"Yes;  part  of  it's  a  good  deal  more'n  a  hundred  years  old. 
It's  been  added  to  at  both  ends.  But  there's  timbers  in  it 
that  will  stand  another  hundred  years.  I  had  a  fire  made 
in  the  livin'-room  this  mornin',  to  take  off  the  chill,  and  we'll 
go  in  and  sit  down  after  we've  looked  the  place  over.  Then 
you  must  come  and  take  pot-luck  with  us." 

At  first  I  was  not  at  all  enthusiastic,  but  the  more  I 
examined  the  place,  and  thought  it  over,  the  more  it  grew 
on  my  fancy.  When  I  entered  the  main  room  of  the  cot- 
tage, and  saw  the  wide,  old-fashioned  fireplace,  with  its 
crackling  blaze,  I  thawed  so  rapidly  that  John  Jones 
chuckled.  "You're  amazin'  refreshin'  for  a  city  chap.  I 
guess  I'll  crack  on  another  hundred  to  the  price." 

"I  thought  you  were  not  going  to  crack  up  the  place 
at  all." 

"Neither  be  I.  Take  that  old  arm-chair,  and  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it.  The  place  looks  rather  run  down,  as  you 
have  seen.  Old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jamison  lived  here  till  lately. 
Last  January  the  old  man  died,  and  a  good  old  man  he  was. 
His  wife  has  gone  to  live  with  a  daughter.  By  the  will  I 
was  app'inted  executor  and  trustee.  I've  fixed  on  a  fair 
price  for  the  property,  and  I'm  goin'  to  hold  on  till  I  get  it. 


88  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

There's  twenty  acres  of  plowable  land  and  orchard,  and  a 
five-acre  wood-lot,  as  I  told  you.  The  best  part  of  the  prop- 
erty is  this.  Mr.  Jamison  was  a  natural  fruit-grower.  He 
had  a  heap  of  good  fruit  here  and  wouldn't  grow  nothin'  but 
the  best.  He  was  always  a-speerin'  round,  and  when  he  come 
across  something  extra  he'd  get  a  graft,  or  a  root  or  two. 
So  he  gradually  came  to  have  the  best  there  was  a-goin'  in 
these  parts.  Now  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Durham,  you 
can  buy  plenty  of  new,  bare  places,  but  your  hair  would  be 
gray  before  you'd  have  the  fruit  that  old  man  Jamison 
planted  and  tended  into  bearing  condition;  and  you  can 
buy  places  with  fine  shade  trees  and  all  that,  and  a  good 
show  of  a  garden  and  orchard,  but  Jamison  used  to  say 
that  an  apple  or  cherry  was  a  pretty  enough  shade  tree  for 
him,  and  he  used  to  say  too  that  a  tree  that  bore  the  biggest 
and  best  apples  didn't  take  any  more  room  than  one  that 
yielded  what  was  fit  only  for  the  cider  press.  Now  the 
p'int's  just  here.  You  don't  come  to  the  country  to  amuse 
yourself  by  developin'  a  property,  like  most  city  chaps  do, 
but  to  make  a  livin'.  Well,  don't  you  see?  This  farm  is 
like  a  mill.  When  the  sun's  another  month  higher  it  will 
start  all  the  machinery  in  the  apple,  cherry,  and  pear  trees 
and  the  small  fruits,  and  it  will  turn  out  a  crop  the  first  year 
you're  here  that  will  put  money  in  your  pocket." 

Then  he  named  the  price,  half  down  and  the  rest  on 
mortgage,  if  I  so  preferred.  It  was  within  the  limit  that 
my  means  permitted. 

I  got  up  and  went  all  over  the  house,  which  was  still 
plainly  furnished  in  part.  A  large  wood-house  near  the 
'back  door  had  been  well  filled  by  the  provident  old  man. 
There  was  ample  cellar  room,  which  was  also  a  safeguard 
against  dampness.  Then  I  went  out  and  walked  around  the 
house.  It  was  all  so  quaint  and  homely  as  to  make  me  feel 
that  it  would  soon  become  home-like  to  us.  There  was  noth- 
ing smart  to  be  seen,  nothing  new  except  a  bam  that  had 
recently  been  built  near  one  of  the  oldest  and  grayest  struc- 
tures of  the  kind  I  had  ever  seen.     The  snow-clad  moun* 


MB.  JONES   SHOWS   ME   THE   PLACE  39 

tains  lifted  themselves  about  me  in  a  way  that  promised  a 
glimpse  of  beauty  every  time  I  should  raise  my  eyes  from 
work.  Yet  after  all  my  gaze  lingered  longest  on  the  or- 
chard and  fruit-trees  that  surrounded  the  dwelling. 

"That's  sensible,"  remarked  Mr.  Jones,  who  followed 
me  with  no  trace  of  anxiety  or  impatience.  "Paint,  putty, 
and  pine  will  make  a  house  in  a  few  weeks,  but  it  takes  a 
good  slice  out  of  a  century  to  build  up  an  orchard  like  that." 

"That  was  just  what  I  was  thinking,  Mr.  Jones." 

"Oh,  I  knowed  that.  Well,  I've  got  just  two  more  things 
to  say,  then  I'm  done  and  you  can  take  it  or  leave  it.  Don't 
you  see  ?  The*  house  is  on  a  slope  facing  the  south-east. 
You  get  the  morning  sun  and  the  southern  breeze.  Some 
people  don't  know  what  they're  worth,  but  I,  who've  lived 
here  all  my  life,  know  they're  worth  payin'  for.  Again, 
you  see  the  ground  slopes  off  to  the  crick  yonder.  That 
means  good  drainage.  We  don't  have  any  malary  here,  and 
that  fact  is  worth  as  much  as  the  farm,  for  I  wouldn't  take 
a  section  of  the  garden  of  Eden  if  there  was  malary  around." 

"On  your  honor  now,  Mr.  Jones,  how  far  is  the  corner 
around  which  they  have  the  malaria?" 

"Mr.  Durham,  it  ain't  a  mile  away." 

I  laughed  as  I  said,  "I  shall  have  one  neighbor,  it 
seems,  to  whom  I  can  lend  an  umbrella." 

"Then  you'll  take  the  place?" 

"Yes,  if  my  wife  is  as  well  satisfied  as  I  am.  I  want 
you  to  give  me  the  refusal  of  it  for  one  week  at  the  price 
you  named." 

"Agreed,  and  I'll  put  it  in  black  and  white." 

"jN'ow,  Mr.  Jones,"  I  began  with* an  apologetic  little 
laugh,  "you  grow  one  thing  up  here  in  all  seasons,  I  fancy — 
an  appetite.  As  I  feel  now,  your  pot-luck  means  good  luck, 
no  matter  what  is  in  it." 

"Now  you  talk  sense.  I  was  a-hankerin'  myself.  I  take 
stock  right  off  in  a  man  or  a  critter  with  an  appetite.  They're 
always  improvin'.  Yes,  sir;  Maizeville  is  the  place  to  grow  an 
appetite,  and  what's  more  we  can  grow  plenty  to  satisfy  it." 


iO  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

Mrs.  Jones  made  a  striking  contrast  to  her  husband, 
for  she  first  impressed  me  as  being  short,  red,  and  round; 
but  her  friendly,  bustling  ways  and  hearty  welcome  soon 
added  other  and  very  pleasant  impressions;  and  when  she 
placed  a  great  dish  of  fricasseed  chicken  on  the  table  she  won 
a  good-will  which  her  neighborly  kindness  has  steadily  in- 
creased. 


TELLING   ABOUT  EDEN  41 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TELLING  ABOUT   EDEN 

NEVER  was  a  traveller  from  a  remote  foreign  clime 
listened  to  with  more  breathless  interest  than  I 
as  I  related  my  adventures  at  our  late  supper  after 
my  return.  Mousie  looked  almost  feverish  in  her  excite- 
ment, and  Winnie  and  Bobsey  exploded  with  merriment 
over  the  name  of  the  mountain  that  would  be  one  of  our 
nearest  neighbors.  They  dubbed  the  place  "Schunemunks^^ 
at  once.  Merton  put  on  serious  and  sportsman-like  airs  as 
he  questioned  me,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  expected  to  add 
largely  to  our  income  from  the  game  he  should  kill.  I 
did  not  take  much  pains  to  dispel  his  illusions,  knowing 
that  one  day's  tramp  would  do  this,  and  that  he  would  bring 
back  increased  health  and  strength  if  nothing  else. 

No  fairy  tale  had  ever  absorbed  the  children  like  the 
description  of  that  old  house  and  its  surroundings;  and 
when  at  last  they  were  induced  to  retire  I  said  to  my  wife, 
after  explaining  more  in  practical  detail  the  pros  and  eons 
to  be  considered:  "It  all  depends  on  you.  If  you  wish  I 
will  take  you  up  the  first  pleasant  day,  so  that  you  can  see 
for  yourself  before  we  decide. '^ 

She  laughed  as  she  said,  "I  decided  two  minutes  after  you 
arrived.'' 

"How  is  that?" 

"I  saw  you  had  the  place  in  your  eyes.  La,  Robert! 
I  can  read  you  like  a  book.  You  give  in  to  me  in  little 
things,  and  that  pleases  a  woman,  you  know.  You  must 
decide  a  question  like  this,  for  it  is  a  question  of  support  for 


42  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

US  all,  and  you  can  do  better  on  a  place  that  suits  you  than 
on  one  never  quite  to  your  mind.  It  has  grown  more  and 
more  clear  to  me  all  the  evening  that  you  have  fallen  in 
love  with  the  old  place,  and  that  settles  it." 

"Well,  you  women  have  a  way  of  your  own  of  deciding 
a  question." 

My  wife  was  too  shrewd  not  to  make  a  point  in  her  favor, 
and  she  remarked,  with  a  complacent  nod,  "I  have  a  way 
of  my  own,  but  there  are  women  in  the  world  who  would 
have  insisted  on  a  smart  new  house." 

"Little  wife,"  I  said,  laughing,  "there  was  another  girl 
that  I  was  a  little  sweet  on  before  I  met  you.  I'm  glad 
you  are  not  the  other  girl." 

She  put  her  head  a  little  to  one  side  with  the  old  roguish 
look  which  used  to  be  so  distracting  when  the  question  of 
questions  with  me  was  whether  pretty  Winnie  Barlow  would 
give  half  a  dozen  young  fellows  the  go-by  for  my  sake,  and 
she  said,  "Perhaps  the  other  girl  is  glad  too." 

"I've  no  doubt  she  is,"  I  sighed,  "for  her  husband  is 
getting  rich.  I  don't  care  how  glad  she  is  if  my  girl  is 
not  sorry." 

"You  do  amuse  me  so,  Robert!  You'd  like  to  pass 
for  something  of  a  philosopher,  with  your  brown  studies 
into  the  hidden  causes  and  reasons  for  things,  yet  you  don't 
half  know  yet  that  when  a  woman  sets  her  heart  on  some- 
thing, she  hasn't  much  left  with  which  to  long  for  any- 
thing else.  That  is,  if  she  has  a  heart,  which  seems  to  be 
left  out  of  some  women." 

"I  think  it  is,  and  others  get  a  double  allowance.  I 
should  be  content,  for  I  was  rich  the  moment  I  won  yours." 

"I've  been  more  than  content ;  I've  been  happy — happy 
all  these  years  in  city  flats.  Even  in  my  tantrums  and  bad 
days  I  knew  I  was  happy,  deep  in  my  heart." 

"I  only  hope  you  will  remain  as  blind  about  your  plod- 
ding old  husband  who  couldn't  make  a  fortune  in  the  city." 

"I've  seen  men  who  made  fortunes,  and  I've  seen  their 
wives  too." 


TELLING   ABOUT  EDEN  48 

I  thanked  God  for  the  look  on  her  face — a  look  which 
had  been'  there  when  she  was  a  bride,  and  which  had  sur- 
vived many  straitened  years. 

So  we  chose  our  country  home.  The  small  patrimony 
to  which  we  had  added  but  little — (indeed  we  had  often 
denied  ourselves  in  order  not  to  diminish  it) — ^was  nearly 
all  to  be  invested  in  the  farm,  and  a  debt  to  be  incurred, 
besides.  While  yielding  to  my  fancy,  I  believed  that  I  had  at 
the  same  time  chosen  wisely,  for,  as  John  Jones  said,  the 
mature  fruit  trees  of  the  place  would  begin  to  bring  re- 
turns very  soon. 


44  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEK  IX 


WE  were  now  all  eager  to  get  away,  and  the  weather 
favored  our  wishes.  A  warm  rain  with  a  high 
south  wind  set  in,  and  the  ice  disappeared  from 
the  river  like  magic.  I  learned  that  the  afternoon  boat 
which  touched  at  Maizeville  would  begin  its  trips  in  the  fol- 
lowing week. 

I  told  my  wife  about  the  furniture  which  still  remained 
in  the  house,  and  the  prices  which  John  Jones  put  upon  it. 
We  therefore  found  that  we  could  dispose  of  a  number  of 
bulky  articles  in  our  city  apartments,  and  save  a  goodly 
sum  in  cartage  and  freight.  Like  soldiers  short  of  ammuni- 
tion, we  had  to  make  every  dollar  tell,  and  when  by  thought 
and  management  we  could  save  a  little  it  was  talked  over  as 
a  triumph  to  be  proud  of. 

The  children  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  with 
great  zest.  They  were  all  going  to  be  hardy  pioneers.  One 
evening  I  described  the  landing  of  the  "Mayflower,"  and 
some  of  the  New-England  winters  that  followed,  and  they 
wished  to  come  down  to  Indian  meal  at  once  as  a  steady 
diet.  Indeed,  toward  the  last,  we  did  come  down  to  rather 
plain  fare,  for  in  packing  up  one  thing  after  another  we  at 
last  reached  the  cooking  utensils. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  preceding  the  one  of  our 
departure  I  began  to  use  military  figures  of  speech. 

"Now  we  must  get  into  marching  order,"  I  said,  "and 
prepare  to  break  camp.  Soldiers,  you  know,  when  abouj 
to  move,  dispose  of  all  their  heavy  baggage,  cook  several 


*' BREAKING    CAMP  "  45 

days'  provisions,  pack  up  and  load  on  wagons  what  they 
mean  to  take  with  them,  and  start.  It  is  a  trying  time — 
one  that  requires  the  exercise  of  good  soldierly  qualities, 
such  as  prompt  obedience,  indifference  to  hardship  and  dis- 
comfort, and  especially  courage  in  meeting  whatever  hap- 
pens." 

Thus  the  children's  imaginations  were  kindled,  and  our 
prosaic  breaking  up  was  a  time  of  grand  excitement.  With 
grim  satisfaction  they  looked  upon  the  dismantling  of  the 
rooms,  and  with  sighs  of  relief  saw  carts  take  away  such 
heavy  articles  as  I  had  sold. 

Winnie  and  Bobsey  were  inclined  to  take  the  children 
of  neighbors  into  their  confidence,  and  to  have  them  around, 
but  I  said  that  this  would  not  do  at  all — ^that  when  sol- 
diers were  breaking  camp  the  great  point  was  to  do  every- 
thing as  secretly  and  rapidly  as  possible.  Thenceforward 
an  air  of  mystery  pervaded  all  our  movements. 

Bobsey,  however,  at  last  overstepped  the  bounds  of  our 
patience  and  became  unmanageable.  The  very  spirit  of 
mischief  seemed  to  have  entered  his  excited  little  brain.  He 
untied  bundles,  placed  things  where  they  were  in  the  way, 
and  pestered  the  busy  mother  with  so  many  questions,  that 
I  hit  upon  a  decided  measure  to  keep  him  quiet.  I  told  him 
about  a  great  commander  who,  in  an  important  fight,  was 
strapped  to  a  mast,  so  that  he  could  oversee  everything. 
Then  I  tied  the  little  fellow  into  a  chair.  At  first  he  was 
much  elated,  and  chattered  like  a  magpie,  but  when  he  found 
he  was  not  to  be  released  after  a  few  moments  he  began  to 
howl  for  freedom.  I  then  carried  him,  chair  and  all,  to  one 
of  the  back  rooms.  Soon  his  cries  ceased,  and  tender- 
hearted Mousie  stole  after  him.  Returning  she  said,  with 
her  low  laugh,  "He'll  be  good  now  for  a  while;  he's  sound 
asleep." 

And  so  passed  the  last  day  in  our  city  rooms.  Except 
as  wife  and  children  were  there,  they  had  never  appeared 
very  homelike  to  me,  and  now  they  looked  bare  and  com- 
fortless indeed.     The  children  gloated  over  their  appear- 


46  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

ance,  for  it  meant  novelty  to  them.  '^The  old  camp  is 
about  broken  up,"  Merton  remarked,  with  the  air  of  a  vet- 
eran.    But  my  wife  sighed  more  than  once. 

"What  troubles  you,  Winifred?'' 

"Kobert,  the  children  were  born  here,  and  here  IVe 
watched  over  them  in  sickness  and  health  so  many  days  and 
nights.'' 

"Well,  my  dear,  the  prospects  are  that  in  our  new  home 
you  will  not  have  to  watch  over  them  in  sickness  very  much. 
Better  still,  you  will  not  have  to  be  so  constantly  on  your 
guard  against  contagions  that  harm  the  soul  as  well  as  the 
body.  I  was  told  that  there  are  rattle-snakes  on  Schunemunk, 
but  greater  dangers  for  Winnie  and  Merton  lurk  in  this 
street — ^yes,  in  this  very  house;"  and  I  exulted  over  the 
thought  that  we  were  about  to  bid  Melissa  Daggett  a  final 
good-by. 

"Oh,  I  know.     I'm  glad;  but  then—" 

"But  then  a  woman's  heart  takes  root  in  any  place  where 
she  has  loved  and  suffered.  That  tendency  makes  it  all 
the  more  certain  that  you'll  love  your  new  home." 

"Yes ;  we  may  as  well  face  the  truth,  Kobert.  We  shall 
suffer  in  the  new  home  as  surely  as  in  the  old.  There  may 
be  stronger  sunshine,  but  that  means  deeper  shadow." 


SCENES    ON   THE    WHAEF  47 


CHAPTEE  X 

SCENES  ON  THE   WHARF 

THE  last  night  in  the  city  flat  was  in  truth  like  camp- 
the  fatigues  of  the  day  brought  us  sound  sleep,  and 
ing  out,  and  we  looked  and  felt  like  emigrants.  But 
in  the  morning  we  rose  with  the  dawn,  from  our  shake- 
downs on  the  floor,  to  begin  eagerly  and  hopefully  our  final 
preparations  for  departure.  In  response  to  my  letters  John 
Jones  had  promised  to  meet  us  at  the  Maizeville  Landing 
with  his  strong  covered  rockaway,  and  to  have  a  fire  in  the 
old  farmhouse.  Load  after  load  was  despatched  to  the  boat, 
for  I  preferred  to  deal  with  one  trusty  truckman.  When 
all  had  been  taken  away,  we  said  good-by  to  our  neigh- 
bors and  took  the  horse-car  to  the  boat,  making  our  quiet 
exit  in  the  least  costly  way.  I  knew  the  boat  would  be  warm 
and  comfortable,  and  proposed  that  we  should  eat  our  lunch 
there. 

The  prospect,  however,  of  seeing  the  wharves,  the  boats, 
and  the  river  destroyed  even  the  children's  appetites.  We 
soon  reached  the  crowded  dock.  The  great  steamer  appeared 
to  be  a  part  of  it,  lying  along  its  len^h  with  several  gang- 
ways, over  which  boxes,  barrels,  and  packages  were  being 
hustled  on  board  with  perpetual  din.  The  younger  children 
were  a  little  awed  at  first  by  the  noise  and  apparent  con- 
fusion. Mousie  kept  close  to  my  side,  and  even  Bobsey 
clung  to  his  mother's  hand.  The  extended  upper  cabin 
had  state-rooms  opening  along  its  sides,  and  was  as  com- 
fortable as  a  floating  parlor  with  its  arm  and  rocking  chairs. 
Here,  not  far  from  the  great  heater,  I  established  our  head- 


48  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

quarters.  I  made  the  children  locate  the  spot  carefully,  and 
said:  "From  this  point  we^ll  make  excursions.  In  the  first 
place,  Merton,  you  come  with  me  and  see  that  all  our  house- 
hold effects  are  together  and  in  good  order.  You  must  learn 
to  travel  and  look  after  things  like  a  man.'^ 

We  spent  a  little  time  in  arranging  our  goods  so  that 
they  would  be  safer  and  more  compact.  Then  we  went 
to  the  captain  and  laughingly  told  him  we  were  emigrants 
to  Maizeville,  and  hoped  before  long  to  send  a  good  deal  of 
produce  by  his  boat.  We  therefore  wished  him  to  "lump'' 
us,  goods,  children,  and  all,  and  deliver  us  safely  at  the 
Maizeville  wharf  for  as  small  a  sum  as  possible. 

He  good-naturedly  agreed,  and  I  found  that  the  chief 
stage  of  our  journey  would  involve  less  outlay  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. 

Thus  far  all  had  gone  so  well  that  I  began  to  fear  that  a 
change  must  take  place  soon,  in  order  that  our  experience 
should  be  more  like  the  common  lot  of  humanity.  When 
at  last  I  took  all  the  children  out  on  the  after-deck,  to  re- 
move the  first  edge  of  their  curiosity,  I  saw  that  there  was 
at  least  an  ominous  change  in  the  weather.  The  morning 
had  been  mild,  with  a  lull  in  the  usual  March  winds.  Now 
a  scud  of  clouds  was  drifting  swiftly  in  from  the  eastward, 
and  chilly,  fitful  gusts  began  to  moan  and  sigh  about  us.  A 
storm  was  evidently  coming,  and  my  hope  was  that  we  might 
reach  our  haven  before  it  began.  I  kept  my  fears  to  myself, 
and  we  watched  the  long  lines  of  carts  converging  toward  the 
gang-planks  of  our  own  and  other  steamboats. 

"See,  youngsters,"  I  cried,  "all  this  means  commerce. 
These  loads  and  loads  of  things  will  soon  be  at  stores  and 
homes  up  the  river,  supplying  the  various  needs  of  the 
people.  To-morrow  the  residents  along  the  river  will  bring 
what  they  have  to  sell  to  this  same  boat,  and  by  daylight 
next  morning  carts  will  be  carrying  country  produce  and 
manufactured  articles  all  over  the  city.  Thus  you  see  com- 
merce is  made  by  people  supplying  themselves  and  each  other 
with  what  they  need.     Just  as  soon  as  we  can  bring  down  a 


SCENES   ON   THE    WHARF  49 

crate  of  berries  and  send  it  to  Mr.  Bogart  we  shall  be  adding 
to  the  commerce  of  the  world  in  the  best  way.  We  shall 
become  what  are  called  the  ^producers/  and  but  for  this 
class  the  world  would  soon  come  to  an  end." 

"  'Eah !"  cried  Bobsey,  "I'm  goin'  to  be  a  producer." 

He  promised,  however,  to  be  a  consumer  for  a  long  time 
to  come,  especially  of  patience.  His  native  fearlessness  soon 
asserted  itself,  and  he  wanted  to  go  everywhere  and  see 
everything,  asking  questions  about  machinery,  navigation, 
river  craft,  the  contents  of  every  box,  bale,  or  barrel  we 
saw,  till  I  felt  that  I  was  being  used  like  a  town  pump.  I 
pulled  him  back  to  the  cabin,  resolving  to  stop  his  mouth 
for  a  time  at  least  with  the  contents  of  our  lunch-basket. 

Winnie  was  almost  as  bad^ — or  as  good,  perhaps  I  should 
say;  for,  however  great  the  drain  and  strain  on  me  might 
be,  I  knew  that  these  active  little  brains  were  expanding 
to  receive  a  host  of  new  ideas. 

Mousie  was  quiet  as  usual,  and  made  no  trouble,  but 
I  saw  with  renewed  hope  that  this  excursion  into  the  world 
awakened  in  her  a  keen  and  natural  interest.  Ever  since 
the  project  of  country  life  had  been  decided  upon,  her  list- 
less, weary  look  had  been  giving  place  to  one  of  greater 
animation.  The  hope  of  flowers  and  a  garden  had  fed 
her  life  like  a  deep,  hidden  spring. 

To  Merton  I  had  given  larger  liberty,  and  had  said :  "It 
is  not  necessary  for  you  to  stay  with  me  all  the  time.  Come 
and  go  on  the  boat  and  wharf  as  you  wish.  Pick  up  what 
knowledge  you  can.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  use  good 
sense  in  keeping  out  of  trouble  and  danger.'' 

I  soon  observed  that  he  was  making  acquaintances  here 
and  there,  and  asking  questions  which  would  go  far  to  make 
good  his  loss  of  schooling  for  a  time.  Finding  out  about 
what  one  sees  is,  in  my  belief,  one  of  the  best  ways  of  get- 
ting an  education.  The  trouble  with  most  of  us  is  that  we 
accept  what  we  see,  without  inquiry  or  knowledge. 

The  children  were  much  interested  in  scenes  witnessed 
from  the  side  of  the  boat  farthest  from  the  wharf.     Her^ 


50  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

in  the  enclosed  water-space  were  several  kinds  of  craft,  but 
the  most  curious  in  their  eyes  was  a  group  of  canal-boats — 
'^queer  travelling  houses'^  Mousie  called  them;  for  it  was 
evident  that  each  one  had  a  family  on  board,  and  the  little 
entrance  to  the  hidden  cabin  resembled  a  hole  from  which 
men,  women,  and  children  came  like  rabbits  out  of  a  bur- 
row. Tough,  hardy,  barefooted  children  were  everywhere. 
While  we  were  looking,  one  frowsy-headed  little  girl  popped 
up  from  her  burrow  in  the  boat,  and,  with  legs  and  feet 
as  red  as  a  boiled  lobster,  ran  along  the  guards  like  a 
squirrel  along  a  fence. 

^^O  dear!"  sighed  Mousie,  'Td  rather  live  in  a  city  flat 
than  in  such  a  house." 

^^I  think  it  would  be  splendid,"  protested  Winnie,  "to 
live  in  a  travelling  house.  You  could  go  all  over  and  still 
stay  at  home." 

I  was  glad  on  our  return  to  find  my  wife  dozing  in  her 
chair.  She  was  determined  to  spend  in  rest  the  hours  on  the 
boat,  and  had  said  that  Mousie  also  must  be  quiet  much  of 
the  afternoon. 

,  Between  three  and  four  the  crush  on  the  wharf  became 
very  great.  Horses  and  drays  were  so  mixed  up  that  to 
inexperienced  eyes  it  looked  as  if  they  could  never  be  un- 
tangled. People  of  every  description,  loaded  dovTn  with 
parcels,  were  hurrying  on  board,  and  it  would  seem  from 
our  point  of  view  that  American  women  shared  with  their 
French  sisters  an  aptness  for  trade,  for  among  the  passengers 
were  not  a  few  substantial,  matronly  persons  who  appeared 
as  if  they  could  look  the  w©rld  in  the  face  and  get  the 
better  of  itt 


A    VOYAGE    UP   THE   HUDSON  51 


CHAPTEK  XI 

A  VOYAGE    UP   THE   HUDSON 

AS  four  p.  M.  approached,  I  took  the  children  to  a  great 
glass  window  in  the  cabin,  through  which  we  could 
see  the  massive  machinery. 

^'JSTow,"  said  I,  ^Vatch  the  steel  giant;  he  is  motionless, 
but  in  a  moment  or  two  he  will  move.'' 

True  enough,  he  appeared  to  take  a  long  breath  of 
steam,  and  then  slowly  lifted  his  polished  arms,  or  levers, 
and  the  boat  that  had  been  like  a  part  of  the  wharf  began 
to  act  as  if  it  were  alive  and  were  waking  up. 

^^ISTow,''  I  asked,  "shall  we  go  to  the  after-deck  and 
take  our  last  look  at  the  city,  or  forward  and  see  the  river 
and  whither  we  are  going?" 

"Forward!  forward!''  cried  all  in  chorus. 

"That's  the  difference  between  youth  and  age,"  I 
thought.  "With  the  young  it  is  always  ^forward.'  "  But 
we  found  that  we  could  not  go  out  on  the  forward  deck, 
for  the  wind  would  have  carried  away  my  light,  frail  Mousie, 
like  a  feather.  Indeed  it  was  whistling  a  wild  tune  as  we 
stood  in  a  small  room  with  glass  windows  all  round.  The 
waves  were  crowned  with  foaming  white-caps,  and  the  small 
craft  that  had  to  be  out  in  the  gale  were  bobbing  up  and 
down,  as  if  possessed.  On  the  river  was  a  strange  and  lurid 
]ight,  which  seemed  to  come  more  from  the  dashing  water 
than  from  the  sky,  so  dark  was  the  latter  with  skurrying 
clouds. 

Mousie  clung  timidly  to  my  side,  but  I  reassured  her 
by  saying:  "See  how  steadily,  how  evenly  and  boldly,  our 
great  craft  goes  out  on  the  wide  river.     In  the  same  way^ 


52  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

we  must  go  forward,  and  never  be  afraid.  These  boats  run 
every  day  after  the  ice  disappears,  and  they  are  managed 
by  men  who  know  what  to  do  in  all  sorts  of  weather." 

She  smiled,  but  whispered,  "I  think  I'll  go  back  and 
stay  with  mamma ;"  but  she  soon  found  much  amusement  in 
looking  at  passing  scenes  from  the  windows  of  the  warm 
after-cabin — scenes  that  were  like  pictures  set  in  oval  frames. 

The  other  children  appeared  fascinated  by  the  scene, 
especially  Winnie,  whose  bold  black  eyes  flashed  with  ex- 
citement. 

"I  want  to  see  everything  and  know  everything,"  she 
said. 

^'I  wish  you  to  see  and  know  about  things  like  these," 
I  replied,  "but  not  such  things  as  Melissa  Daggett  would 
show  you." 

"Melissy  Daggett,  indeed!"  cried  Winnie.  "This  beats 
all  her  stories.  She  tried  to  tell  me  the  other  day  about  a 
theatre  at  which  a  woman  killed  a  man — " 

"Horrid!     I  hope  you  didn't  listen?" 

"Only  long  enough  to  know  the  man  came  to  life  again, 
and  danced  in  the  next — " 

"That  will  do.  Tm  not  interested  in  Melissa's  vulgar 
stories.  As  you  say,  this,  and  all  like  this,  is  much  better, 
and  will  never  prevent  you  from  becoming  a  lady  like 
mamma." 

Winnie's  ambition  to  become  a  lady  promised  to  be  one 
of  my  strong  levers  in  uplifting  her  character. 

I  confess  that  I  did  not  like  the  looks  of  the  sky  or  of 
the  snow-flakes  that  began  to  whirl  in  the  air,  but  the  strong 
steamer  plowed  her  way  rapidly  past  the  city  and  the  villa- 
crowned  shores  beyond.  The  gloom  of  the  storm  and  of 
early  coming  night  was  over  all,  and  from  the  distant  west- 
ern shores  the  Palisades  frowned  dimly  through  the  ob- 
scurity. 

My  wife  came,  and  after  a  brief  glance  shivered  and 
was  turning  away,  when  I  said,  "You  don't  like  your  first 
glimpse  of  the  country,  Winifred?" 


A    VOYAGE    UP   THE   HUDSON  58 

"It  will  look  different  next  June.  The  children  will 
take  cold  here.     Let  them  come  and  watch  the  machinery.'* 

This  we  all  did  for  a  time,  and  then  I  took  them  on  ex- 
cursions about  the  enclosed  parts  of  the  boat.  The  lamps 
were  already  lighted,  and  the  piled-up  freight  stood  out  in 
grotesque  light  and  shadow. 

Before  very  long  we  were  standing  by  one  of  the  furnace 
rooms,  and  the  sooty-visaged  man  threw  open  the  iron  doors 
of  the  furnace.  In  the  glare  of  light  that  rushed  forth 
everything  near  stood  out  almost  as  vividly  as  it  would  have 
done  in  a  steady  gleam  of  lightning.  The  fireman  instantly 
became  a  startling  silhouette,  and  the  coal  that  he  shovelled 
into  what  was  like  a  flaming  mouth  of  a  cavern  seemed 
sparkling  black  diamonds.  The  snow-flakes  glimmered  as 
the  wind  swept  them  by  the  wide-open  window,  and  in  the 
distance  were  seen  the  lights  and  the  dim  outline  of  another 
boat  rushing  toward  the  city.  Clang!  the  iron  doors  are 
shut,  and  all  is  obscure  again. 

"Now  the  boat  has  had  its  supper,"  said  Bobsey.  "O 
dear !  I  wish  I  could  have  a  big  hot  supper.'* 

The  smoking-room  door  stood  open,  and  we  lingered  near 
it  for  some  moments,  attracted  first  by  a  picture  of  a  great 
fat  ox,  that  suggested  grassy  meadows,  plowing,  juicy 
steaks,  and  other  pleasant  things.  Then  our  attention  was 
drawn  to  a  man,  evidently  a  cattle-dealer,  who  was  holding 
forth  to  others  more  or  less  akin  to  him  in  their  pursuits. 

"Yes,"  he  was  saying,  "people  in  the  country  eat  a 
mighty  lot  of  cow-beef,  poor  and  old  at  that.  I  was  buying 
calves  out  near  Shawangunk  Mountains  last  week,  and 
stopped  at  a  small  tavern.  They  brought  me  a  steak  and  I 
tried  to  put  my  knife  in  it — thought  the  knife  might  be 
dull,  but  knew  my  grinders  weren't.  Jerusalem!  I  might 
have  chawed  on  that  steak  till  now  and  made  no  impression. 
I  called  the  landlord,  and  said,  ^See  here,  stranger,  if  you 
serve  me  old  boot-leather  for  steak  again  I'll  blow  on  your 
house.' — ^I  vow,'  he  said,  'it's  the  best  I  kin  get  in  these 
diggin's.     You  fellers  from  the  city  buy  up  every  likely  crit- 


54  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

ter  that's  for  sale,  and  we  have  to  take  what  you  leave.'  You 
see,  he  hit  me  right  between  the  horns,  for  it's  about  so. 
Bless  your  soul,  if  I'd  took  in  a  lot  of  cow-beef  like  that  to 
Steers  and  Pinkham,  Washington  Market,  they'd  'a  taken 
my  hide  off  and  hung  me  up  'longside  of  my  beef." 

"Grantin'  all  that,"  said  another  man,  "folks  in  the 
country  would  be  a  sight  better  off  if  they'd  eat  more  cow- 
beef  and  less  pork.  You  know  the  sayin'  about  'out  of  the 
frying-pan  into  the  fire'  ?  Well,  in  some  parts  I've  travelled 
they  had  better  get  out  of  the  fryin'-pan,  no  matter  where 
they  fetch  up." 

We  went  away  laughing,  and  I  said:  "Don't  you  be 
troubled,  Mousie;  we  won't  go  to  the  frying-pan  altogether 
to  find  roses  for  your  cheeks.  We'll  paint  them  red  with 
strawberries  and  raspberries,  the  color  put  on  from  the 
inside." 

As  time  passed,  the  storm  increased,  and  the  air  became 
so  thick  with  driving  snow  that  the  boat's  speed  was  slack- 
ened. Occasionally  we  "slowed  up"  for  some  moments. 
The  passengers  shook  their  heads  and  remarked,  dolefully, 
"There's  no  telling  when  we'll  arrive." 

I  made  up  my  mind  that  it  would  be  good  economy  for 
us  all  to  have  a  hearty  hot  supper,  as  Bobsey  had  suggested ; 
and  when,  at  last,  the  gong  resounded  through  the  boat, 
we  trooped  down  with  the  others  to  the  lower  cabin,  where 
there  were  several  long  tables,  with  colored  waiters  in  at- 
tendance. We  had  not  been  in  these  lower  regions  before, 
and  the  eyes  of  the  children  soon  wandered  from  their  plates 
to  the  berths,  or  sleeping-bunks,  which  lined  the  sides  of  the 
cabin. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  in  answer  to  their  questions;  "it  is  a 
big  supper-room  now,  but  by  and  by  it  will  be  a  big  bed- 
room, and  people  will  be  tucked  away  in  these  berths,  just 
as  if  they  were  laid  on  shelves,  one  over  the  other." 

The  abundant  and  delicious  supper,  in  which  steaks,  not 
from  cow-beef,  were  the  chief  feature,  gave  each  one  of  us 
solid  comfort  and  satisfaction.     Bobsey  ate  until  the  pas- 


A    VOYAGE    UP    THE   HUDSON  56 

sengers  around  him  were  laughing,  but  he,  with  superb  in- 
difference, attended  strictly  to  business. 

My  wife  whispered,  "You  must  all  eat  enough  to  last 
a  week,  for  I  sha'n't  have  time  to  cook  anything;"  and 
I  was  much  pleased  at  the  good  example  which  she  and 
Mousie  set  us. 

Both  before  and  after  supper  I  conducted  Bobsey  to  the 
wash-room,  and  he  made  the  people  laugh  as  he  stood  on 
a  chair  and  washed  his  face.  But  he  was  a  sturdy  little  fel- 
low, and  only  laughed  back  when  a  man  said  he  looked  as 
though  he  was  going  to  dive  into  the  basin. 

Mousie  at  last  began  to  show  signs  of  fatigue ;  and  learn- 
ing that  it  would  be  several  hours  still  before  we  could  hope 
to  arrive,  so  severe  was  the  storm,  I  procured  the  use  of  a 
state-room,  and  soon  Bobsey  was  snoring  in  the  upper  berth, 
and  my  invalid  girl  smiling  and  talking  in  soft  tones  to  her 
mother  in  the  lower  couch.  Winnie,  Merton,  and  I 
prowled  around,  spending  the  time  as  best  we  could.  Occa- 
sionally we  looked  through  the  windows  at  the  bow,  and 
wondered  how  the  pilot  could  find  his  way  through  the 
tempest.  I  confess  I  had  fears  lest  he  might  not  do  this, 
and  felt  that  I  should  be  grateful  indeed  when  my  little 
band  was  safe  on  shore.  The  people  in  charge  of  the  boat, 
however,  knew  their  business. 


Roe— IX— R 


66  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   MARCH   EVENING   IN   EDEN 

AT  length  we  were  fast  at  the  Maizeville  Landing, 
although  long  after  the  usual  hour  of  arrival.  I 
was  anxious  indeed  to  learn  whether  John  Jone* 
would  meet  us,  or  whether,  believing  that  we  would  not  come 
in  such  a  storm,  and  tired  of  waiting,  he  had  gone  home 
and  left  us  to  find  such  shelter  as  we  could. 

But  there  he  was,  looking  in  the  light  of  the  lanterns 
as  grizzled  as  old  Time  himself,  with  his  eyebrows  and  beard 
full  of  snow-flakes.  He  and  I  hastily  carried  the  three 
younger  children  ashore  through  the  driving  snow,  and  put 
them  in  a  corner  of  the  storehouse,  while  Merton  followed 
with  his  mother. 

"Mr.  Jones,"  I  exclaimed,  "you  are  a  neighbor  to  be 
proud  of  already.  Why  didn^t  you  go  home  and  leave  us  to 
our  fate?" 

"Well,"  he  replied,  laughing,  "  ^twouldn't  take  you  long 
to  get  snowed  under  to-night.  No,  no;  when  I  catch 
fish  I  mean  to  land  'em.  Didn't  know  but  what  in  such  a 
buster  of  a  storm  you  might  be  inclined  to  stay  on  the  boat 
and  go  back  to  the  city.     Then  where  would  my  bargain  be  ?" 

"No  fear  of  that.  We're  in  for  it  now — have  enlisted 
for  the  war.     What  shall  we  do?" 

"Well,  I  vow  I  hardly  know.  One  thing  first,  anyhow 
— we  must  get  Mrs.  Durham  and  the  kids  into  the  warm 
waiting-room,  and  then  look  after  your  traps." 

The  room  was  already  crowded,  but  we  squeezed  them 
in,  white  from  scarcely  more  than  a  moment's  exposure 


A    MARCH   EVENING    IN   EDEN  57 

to  the  storm.  Then  we  took  hold  and  gave  the  deck-hands 
a  lift  with  my  baggage,  Merton  showing  much  manly  spirit 
in  his  readiness  to  face  the  weather  and  the  work.  My 
effects  were  soon  piled  up  by  themselves,  and  then  we  held 
a  council. 

"Mrs.  Durham'll  hardly  want  to  face  this  storm  with 
the  children,"  began  Mr.  Jones. 

"Are  you  going  home?''  I  asked. 

"Yes,  sir.  I'd  rather  travel  all  night  for  the  sake  of 
being  home  in  the  morning." 

"To  tell  the  truth  I  feel  the  same  way,"  I  continued, 
"but  reason  must  hold  the  reins.  Do  you  think  you  could 
protect  Mrs.  Durham  and  the  children  from  the  storm?" 

"Yes,  I  think  we  could  tuck  'em  in  so  they'd  scarcely 
know  it  was  snowin',  and  then  we  could  sled  your  things 
up  in  the  mornin'.  'Commodations  on  the  landin'  to-night 
will  be  pretty  crowded." 

"We'll  let  her  decide,  then." 

When  J  explained  how  things  were  and  what  Mr.  Jones 
had  said,  she  exclaimed,  "Oh,  let  us  go  home." 

How  my  heart  jumped  at  her  use  of  the  word  "home" 
in  regard  to  a  place  that  she  had  never  seen.  "But,  Wini- 
fred," I  urged,  "do  you  realize  how  bad  a  night  it  is?  Do 
you  think  it  would  be  safe  for  Mousie?" 

"It  isn't  so  very  cold  if  one  is  not  exposed  to  the  wind 
and  snow,"  she  replied,  "and  Mr.  Jones  says  we  needn't  be 
exposed.  I  don't  believe  we'd  run  as  much  risk  as  in  going 
to  a  little  hotel,  the  best  rooms  of  which  are  already  taken. 
Since  we  can  do  it,  it  will  be  so  much  nicer  to  go  to  a  place 
that  we  feel  is  our  own!" 

*T[  must  say  that  your  wishes  accord  with  mine." 

"Oh,  I  knew  that,"  she  replied,  laughing.  "Mr.  Jones," 
she  added,  sociably,  "this  man  has  a  way  of  telling  you 
what  he  wishes  by  his  looks  before  asking  your  opinion." 

"I  found  that  out  the  day  he  came  up  to  see  the  place," 
chuckled  my  neighbor,  "and  I  was  half  a  mind  to  stick  him 
for  another  hundred  for  being  so  honest.     He  don't  know 


58  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

how  to  make  a  bargain  any  more  than  one  of  the  children 
there.  Well,  Til  go  to  the  shed  and  get  the  hosses,  and 
we'll  make  a  pull  for  home.  I  donH  believe  you'll  be  sorry 
when  you  get  there." 

Mr.  Jones  came  around  to  the  very  door  with  the  rock- 
away,  and  we  tucked  my  wife  and  children  under  the  buf- 
falo robes  and  blankets  till  they  could  hardly  breathe.  Then 
we  started  out  into  the  white,  spectral  world,  for  the  wind 
had  coated  everything  with  the  soft,  wet  snow.  On  we  went 
at  a  slow  walk,  for  the  snow  and  mud  were  both  deep,  and  the 
wheeling  was  very  heavy.  Even  John  Jones's  loquacity 
was  checked,  for  every  time  he  opened  his  mouth  the  wind 
half  filled  it  with  snow.  Some  one  ahead  of  us,  with  a 
lantern,  guided  our  course  for  a  mile  or  so  through  the 
dense  obscurity,  and  then  he  turned  off  on  another  road. 
At  first  I  hailed  one  and  another  in  the  black  cavern  of  the 
rockaway  behind  me,  and  their  muffled  voices  would  answer, 
^^All  right."  But  one  after  another  they  ceased  to  answer 
me  until  all  were  fast  asleep  except  my  wife.  She  insisted 
that  she  was  only  very  drowsy,  but  I  knew  that  she  was 
also  very,  very  tired.  Indeed,  I  felt  myself,  in  a  way  that 
frightened  me,  the  strange  desire  to  sleep  that  overcomes 
those  long  exposed  to  cold  and  wind. 

I  must  have  been  nodding  and  swaying  around  rather 
loosely,  when  I  felt  myself  going  heels  over  head  into  the 
snow.  As  I  picked  myself  up  I  heard  my  wife  and  children 
screaming,  and  John  Jones  shouting  to  his  horses,  "Git 
up,"  while  at  the  same  time  he  lashed  them  with  his  whip. 
My  face  was  so  plastered  with  snow  that  I  could  see  only  a 
dark  object  which  was  evidently  being  dragged  violently 
out  of  a  ditch,  for  when  the  level  road  was  reached,  Mr. 
Jones  shouted,  "Whoa!" 

"Robert,  are  you  hurt?"  cried  my  wife. 

"Ko,  are  you?" 

"Not  a  bit,  but  Tm  frightened  to  death." 

Then  John  Jones  gave  a  hearty  guffaw  and  said: 

"I  bet  you  our  old  shanghai  rooster  that  you  don't  die." 


A    MARCH   EVEJSING   IN   EDEN  59 

"Take  you  up/'  answered  my  wife,  half  laughing  and 
half  crying. 

"Where  are  we  ?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  here.  Haven't  the  remotest  idea  where  you  be," 
replied  Mr.  Jones. 

"You  are  a  philosopher,"  I  said,  groping  my  way  through 
the  storm  toward  his  voice. 

"I  believe  I  was  a  big  fool  for  tryin'  to  get  home  such 
a  night  as  this ;  but  now.  that  we've  set  about  it,  we'd  better 
get  there.  That's  right.  Scramble  in  and  take  the  reins. 
Here's  my  mittens." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I'm  going  to  'light  and  smell  out  the  road.  This  is 
equal  to  any  blizzard  I've  read  of  out  West." 

"How  far  have  we  to  go  now?" 

"Half  a  mile,  as  nigh  as  I  can  make  out;''  and  we 
jogged  on  again. 

"Are  you  sure  you  are  not  hurt?"  Mousie  asked  me. 

"Sure;  it  was  like  tumbling  into  a  feather  bed." 

"Stop  a  bit,"  cried  Mr.  Jones.  "There's  a  turn  in  the 
road  here.     Let  me  go  on  a  little  and  lay  out  your  course." 

"Oh,  I  wish  we  had  stayed  anywhere  under  shelter," 
said  my  wife. 

"Courage,"  I  cried.  "When  we  get  home,  we'll  laugh 
over  this." 

"Now,"  shouted  Mr.  Jones,  "veer  gradually  off  to  the 
left  toward  my  voice — all  right;"  and  we  jogged  on  again, 
stopping  from  time  to  time  to  let  our  invisible  guide  explore 
the  road. 

Once  more  he  cried,  "Stop  a  minute." 

The  wind  roared  and  shrieked  around  us,  and  it  was 
growing  colder.  With  a  chill  of  fear  I  thought,  "Could 
John  Jones  have  mistaken  the  road?"  and  I  remembered 
how  four  people  and  a  pair  of  horses  had  been  frozen  within 
a  few  yards  of  a  house  in  a  Western  snow-storm. 

"Are  you  cold,  children?"  I  asked. 


W  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

"Yes,  I'm  freezing,"  sobbed  Winnie.  "I  don't  like  the 
country  one  bit." 

"This  is  different  from  the  Eden  of  which  we  have  been 
dreaming,"  I  thought  grimly.  Then  I  shouted,  "How  much 
farther,  Mr.  Jones?" 

The  howling  of  the  wind  was  my  only  answer.  I 
shouted  again.  The  increasing  violence  of  the  tempest  was 
the  only  response. 

"Robert,"  cried  my  wife,  "I  don't  hear  Mr.  Jones's 
voice." 

"He  has  only  gone  on  a  little  to  explore,"  I  replied, 
although  my  teeth  chattered  with  cold  and  fear. 

"Halloo — 00 !"  I  shouted.  The  answering  shriek  of  the 
wind  in  the  trees  overhead  chilled  my  very  heart. 

"What  has  become  of  Mr.  Jones?"  asked  my  wife,  and 
there  was  almost  anguish  in  her  tone,  while  Winnie  and 
Bobsey  were  actually  crying  aloud. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  I  tried  to  say,  reassuringly,  "even  if 
he  were  very  near  to  us  we  could  neither  see  nor  hear  him." 

Moments  passed  which  seemed  like  ages,  and  I  scarcely 
knew  w^hat  to  do.  The  absence  of  all  signs  of  Mr.  Jones 
filled  me  with  a  nameless  and  unspeakable  dread.  Could 
anything  have  happened  to  him?  Could  he  have  lost  his 
way  and  fallen  into  some  hole  or  over  some  steep  bank? 
If  I  drove  on,  we  might  tumble  after  him  and  perish, 
maimed  and  frozen,  in  the  wreck  of  the  wagon.  One  im- 
agines all  sorts  of  horrible  things  when  alone  and  helpless 
at  night. 

"Papa,"  cried  Merton,  "I'll  get  out  and  look  for  Mr. 
Jones." 

"You  are  a  good,  brave  boy,"  I  replied.  "ISTo;  you 
hold  the  reins,  and  I'll  look  for  him  and  see  what  is  just  be- 
fore us." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  glimmer  of  light  off  to  the 
left  of  us. 


RESCUED   AND    AT  HOME  01 


CHAPTER  XIII 

RESCUED   AND   AT   HOME 

ALL  that  the  poets  from  the  beginning  of  time  have 
written  about  light  could  not  express  my  joy  as  I  saw 
that  glimmer  approaching  on  the  left.  Before  it 
appeared  I  had  been  awed  by  the  tempest,  benumbed  with 
cold,  shivering  in  my  wet  clothes,  and  a  prey  to  many  ter- 
rible fears  and  surmises;  but  now  I  cried,  "Cheer  up;  here 
comes  a  light.'' 

Then  in  my  gladness  I  shouted  the  greeting  that  met 
Mr.  Jones  everywhere,  "How  are  YOU,  JOHN?" 

A  great  guffaw  of  laughter  mingled  with  the  howl  of  the 
storm,  and  my  neighbor's  voice  followed  from  the  ob- 
scurity: "That's  famous — keepin'  up  your  courage  like  a 
soldier." 

"Oh,  I  won't  brag  about  keeping  up  my  courage." 

"Guess  you  didn't  know  what  had  beconie  of'me?" 
•   "You're  right  and  we  didn't  know  what  was  to  become  of 
us.     Now   aren't  we  nearly   home?     For  we  are  all  half 
frozen." 

"Just  let  me  spy  a  bit  with  the  lantern,  and  I'll  soon 
tell  you  everything."  He  bobbed  back  and  forth  for  a 
moment  or  two  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp.  "Now  turn  sharp  to 
the  left,  and  follow  the  light." 

A  great  hope  sprung  up  in  my  heart,  and  I  hushed  Win- 
nie's and  Bobsey's  crying  by  saying,  "Listen,  and  you'll 
soon  hear  some  good  news." 

Our  wheels  crunched  through  the  deep  snow  for  a  few 
moments,  and  soon  I  saw  a  ruddy  light  shining  from  the 


62  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

window  of  a  dwelling,  and  then  Mr.  Jones  shouted,  "Whoa ! 
'Light  down,  neighbors;  you're  at  your  own  door." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  delighted  cries.  Merton  half 
tumbled  over  me  in  his  eagerness  to  get  down.  A  door 
opened,  and  out  poured  a  cheerful  glow.  Oh  the  delicious 
sense  of  safety  and  warmth  given  by  it  already ! 

I  seized  Mousie,  floundered  through  the  snow  up  to  my 
knees,  and  placed  her  in  a  big  rocking-chair.  Mr.  Jones 
followed  with  Winnie,  and  Merton  came  in  with  Bobsey 
on  his  back.  The  little  fellow  was  under  such  headway  in 
crying  that  he  couldn't  stop  at  once,  although  his  tears  were 
rapidly  giving  place  to  laughter.  I  rushed  back  and  car- 
ried in  my  wife,  and  then  said,  in  a  voice  a  little  unsteady 
from  deep  feeling,  "Welcome  home,  one  and  all." 

JSTever  did  the  word  mean  more  to  a  half -frozen  and 
badly  frightened  family.  At  first  safety,  warmth,  and  com- 
fort were  the  uppermost  in  our  thoughts,  but  as  wraps  were 
taken  off,  and  my  wife  and  children  thawed  out,  eager- 
eyed  curiosity  began  to  make  explorations.  Taking  Mousie 
on  my  lap,  and  chafing  her  hands,  I  answered  questions  and 
enjoyed  to  the  full  the  exclamations  of  pleasure. 

Mr.  Jones  lingered  for  a  few  moments,  then  gave  one 
of  his  big  guffaws  by  way  of  preface,  and  said:  "Well,  you 
do  look  as  if  you  was  at  home  and  meant  to  stay.  This 
'ere  scene  kinder  makes  me  homesick ;  so  I'll  say  good-night, 
and  I'll  be  over  in  the  momin'.  There's  some  lunch  on  the 
table  that  my  wife  fixed  up  for  you.  I  must  go,  for  I 
hear  John  junior  hollerin'  for  me." 

His  only  response  to  our  profuse  thanks  was  another 
laugh,  which  the  wind  swept  away. 

"Who  is  John  junior?"  asked  Merton. 

"Mr.  Jones's  son,  a  boy  of  about  your  age.  He  was  here 
waiting  for  lis,  and  keeping  the  fire  up.  When  we  ar- 
rived he  came  out  and  took  the  horses,  and  so  you  didn't  see 
him.  He'll  make  a  good  playmate  for  you.  To  use  his 
father's  own  words,  ^He's  a  fairish  boy  as  boys  go,'  and  that 
from  John  Jones  means  that  he's  a  good  fellow." 


RESCUED   and'  AT  HOME  63 

Oh,  what  a  happy  group  we  were,  as  we  gathered  around 
the  great,  open  fire,  on  which  I  piled  more  wood! 

"Do  you  wish  to  go  and  look  around  a  little?'^  I  asked 
my  wife. 

"No,"  she  replied,  leaning  back  in  her  rocking-chair: 
"let  me  take  this  in  first.  O  Robert,  I  have  such  a  sense  of 
rest,  quiet,  comfort,  and  hominess  that  I  just  want  to  sit 
still  and  enjoy  it  all.  The  howling  of  the  storm  only  makes 
this  place  seem  more  like  a  refuge,  and  I'd  rather  hear  it 
than  the  Daggetts  tramping  overhead  and  the  Ricketts 
children  crying  down-stairs.  Oh,  isn't  it  nice  to  be  by  our- 
selves in  this  quaint  old  room  ?  Turn  the  lamp  down,  Robert, 
so  we  can  see  the  firelight  flicker  over  everything.  Isn't 
it  splendid  ? — just  like  a  picture  in  a  book." 

"No  picture  in  a  book,  Winifred — no  artist  could  paint 
a  picture  that  would  have  the  charm  of  this  one  for  me," 
I  replied,  leaning  my  elbow  on  the  end  of  the  mantel-piece, 
and  looking  fondly  down  on  the  little  group.  My  wife's 
face  looked  girlish  in  the  ruddy  light.  Mousie  gazed  into 
the  fire  with  unspeakable  content,  and  declared  she  was  "too 
happy  to  think  of  taking  cold."  Winnie  and  Bobsey  were 
sitting,  Turk-fashion,  on  the  floor,  their  eyelids  drooping. 
The  long  cold  ride  had  quenched  even  their  spirit,  for  after 
running  around  for  a  few  moments  they  began  to  yield  to 
drowsiness.  Merton,  with  a  boy's  appetite,  was  casting  wist- 
ful glances  at  the  lunch  on  the  table,  the  chief  feature  of 
which  was  a  roast  chicken. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  occasion  for  haste.  I  wished 
to  let  the  picture  sink  deep  into  my  heart.  At  last  my  wife 
sprang  up  and  said : — 

"I've  been  sentimental  long  enough.  You're  not  of 
much  account  in  the  house,  Robert" — with  one  of  her  saucy 
looks — "and  I  must  see  to  things,  or  Winnie  and  Bobsey  will 
be  asleep  on  the  floor.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  sit  here  till  morn- 
ing, but  I'll  come  back  after  the  children  are  in  bed. 
Come,  show  me  my  home,  or  at  least  enough  of  it  to  let  m© 
see  where  we  are  to  sleep." 


64  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

"We  shall  have  to  camp  again  to-night.  Mrs.  Jones 
has  made  up  the  one  bed  left  in  the  house,  and  you  and 
Mousie  shall  have  that.  We'll  ^x  Winnie  and  Bobsey  on  the 
lounge;  and,  youngsters,  you  can  sleep  in  your  clothes,  just 
as  soldiers  do  on  the  ground.  Merton  and  I  will  doze  in 
these  chairs  before  the  fire.  To-m.orrow  night  we  can  all 
be  very  comfortable." 

I  took  the  lamp  and  led  the  way — my  wife,  Mousie, 
and  Merton  following — first  across  a  little  hall,  from  which 
one  stairway  led  to  the  upper  chambers  and  another  to  the 
cellar.  Opening  a  door  opposite  the  living-room,  I  showed 
Winifred  her  parlor.  Cosey  and  comfortable  it  looked, 
even  now,  through  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones's  kind  offices.  A 
Morning  Glory  stove  gave  out  abundant  warmth  and  a 
rich  light  which  blended  genially  with  the  red  colors  of  the 
carpet. 

"Oh,  how  pretty  I  can  make  this  room  look !"  exclaimed 
my  wife. 

"Of  course  you  can :  you've  only  to  enter  it." 

"You  hurt  your  head  when  you  fell  out  of  the  agon, 
Robert,  and  are  a  little  daft.  There's  no  place  to  sleep 
here." 

"Come  to  the  room  over  this,  warmed  by  a  pipe  from 
this  stove." 

"Ah,  this  is  capital,"  she  cried,  looking  around  an  apart- 
ment which  Mrs.  Jones  had  made  comfortable.  "Wasn't 
I  wise  when  I  decided  to  come  home  ?  It's  just  as  warm  as 
toast.  Now  let  the  wind  blow-— Why,  I  don't  hear  it  any 
more." 

"!N^o,  the  gale  has  blown  itself  out.  Finding  that  we 
had  escaped,  it  got  discouraged  and  gave  up.  Connected 
with  this  room  is  another  for  Mousie  and  Winnie.  By  leav- 
ing the  door  open  much  of  the  time  it  will  be  warm  enough 
for  them.  So  you  see  this  end  of  the  house  can  be  heated 
with  but  little  trouble  and  expense.  The  open  fire  in  the 
living-room  is  a  luxury  that  we  can  afford,  since  there  is 
plenty  of  wood  on  the  place.     On  the  other  side  of  the  hall 


RESCUED   AJSD   AT  HOME  65 

there  is  a  room  for  Merton.  Now  do  me  a  favor:  don't 
look,  or  talk,  or  think,  any  more  to-night.  It  has  been  a 
long,  hard  day.  Indeed' ' — looking  at  my  watch — "it  is 
already  to-morrow  morning,  and  you  know  how  much  we 
shall  have  to  do.  Let  us  go  back  and  get  a  little  supper, 
and  then  take  all  the  rest  we  can." 

Winifred  yielded,  and  Bobsey  and  Winnie  waked  up 
for  a  time  at  the  word  "supper.''  Then  we  knelt  around 
our  hearth,  and  made  it  an  altar  to  God,  for  I  wished  the 
children  never  to  forget  our  need  of  His  fatherly  care  and 
help. 

"I  will  now  take  the  children  upstairs  and  put  them  to 
bed,  and  then  come  back,  for  I  can  not  leave  this  wood  fire 
just  yet,"  remarked  my  wife. 

I  burst  out  laughing  and  said,  "You  have  never  been  at 
home  until  this  night,  when  you  are  camping  in  an  old  house 
you  never  saw  before,  and  I  can  prove  it  by  one  question — 
When  have  you  taken  the  children  upstairs  to  bed  before  ?" 

"Why — why — never." 

"Of  course  you  haven't — city  flats  all  your  life.  But 
your  nature  is  not  perverted.  In  natural  homes  for  gei?- 
erations  mothers  have  taken  their  children  upstairs  to  bed, 
and,  forgetting  the  habit  of  your  life,  you  speak  according 
to  the  inherited  instinct  of  the  mother-heart." 

"O  Robert,  you  have  so  many  fine-spun  theories!  Yet 
it  is  a  little  queer.  It  seemed  just  as  natural  for  me  to  say 
upstairs  as — " 

"As  it  was  for  your  mother,  grandmother,  and  great- 
grandmother." 

"Very  well.  We  are  in  such  an  old  house  that  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  begin  to  look  and  act  like  my  great-grandmother. 
But  no  more  theories  to-night — nothing  but  rest  and  the 
wood  fire." 

She  soon  joined  me  at  the  hearth  again.  Merton  mean- 
while had  stretched  himself  on  the  rag-carpet,  with  his  over- 
coat for  a  pillow,  and  was  in  dreamless  sleep.  My  wife's 
eyes  were  full  of  languor.     She  did  not  sit  down,  but  stood 


^Q  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

beside  me  for  a  moment.  Then,  laying  her  head  on  my 
shoulder,  she  said,  softly,  ^^I  haven't  brains  enough  for  theo- 
ries and  such  things,  but  I  will  try  to  make  you  all  happy 
here." 

"Dear  little  wife!"  I  laughed;  "when  has  woman  hit 
upon  a  higher  or  better  wisdom  than  that  of  making  all  happy 
in  her  own  home  ?  and  you  half  asleep,  too." 

"Then  I'll  bid  you  good-night  at  once,  before  I  say  some- 
thing awfully  stupid." 

Soon  the  old  house  was  quiet.  The  wind  had  utterly 
ceased.  I  opened  the  door  a  moment,  and  looked  on  the 
white,  still  world  without.  The  stars  glittered  frostily 
through  the  rifts  in  the  clouds.  Schunemunk  Mountain  was 
a  shadow  along  the  western  horizon,  and  the  eastern  high- 
lands banked  up  and  blended  with  the  clouds.  Nature  has 
its  restless  moods,  its  storms  and  passions,  like  human  life; 
but  there  are  times  of  tranquillity  and  peace,  even  in  March. 
How  different  was  this  scene  from  the  aspect  of  our  city 
street  when  I  had  taken  my  farewell  look  at  a  late  hour  the 
previous  night  1  !No  grand  sweeping  outlines  there,  no  deep 
quiet  and  peace,  soothing  and  at  the  same  time  uplifting  the 
mind.  Even  at  midnight  there  is  an  uneasy  fretting  in  city 
life — some  one  not  at  rest,  and  disturbing  the  repose  of 
others. 

I  stole  silently  through  the  house.  Here,  too,  all  seemed 
in  accord  with  nature.  The  life  of  a  good  old  man  had 
quietly  ceased  in  this  home;  new,  hopeful  life  was  begin- 
ning. Evil  is  everywhere  in  the  world,  but  it  seemed  to 
me  that  we  had  as  safe  a  nook  as  could  be  found 


SELF-DENIAL   AND    ITS   REWARD  67 


CHAPTEK  XIV 

SELF-DENIAL  AND   ITS  REWARD 

IEEMEMBEE  little  that  followed  until  I  was  startled 
out  of  my  chair  by  a  loud  knocking.  The  sunlight  was 
streaming  in  at  the  window  and  John  Jones's  voice  was  at  the 
door. 

"I  think  we  have  all  overslept,"  I  said,  as  I  admitted  him. 

^'Not  a  bit  of  it.  Every  wink  you've  had  after  such  a 
day  as  yesterday  is  like  money  put  in  the  bank.  But 
the  sleighing  is  better  now  than  it  will  be  later  in  the 
day.  The  sun'll  be  pretty  powerful  by  noon,  and  the  snow'll 
soon  be  slush.  ^N'ow's  your  chance  to  get  your  traps  up  in  a 
hurry.  I  can  have  a  two-hoss  sled  ready  in  half  an  hour, 
and  if  you  say  so  I  can  hire  a  big  sleigh  of  a  neighbor, 
and  we'll  have  everything  here  by  dinner-time.  After 
you  get  things  snug,  you  won't  care  if  the  bottom  does  fall 
out  of  the  roads  for  a  time.  Well,  you  have  had  to  rough 
it.     Merton  might  have  come  and  stayed  with  us." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  said  the  boy,  rubbing  his  eyes  open 
as  he  rose  from  the  floor,  at  the  same  time  learning  from 
stiff  joints  that  a  carpet  is  not  a  mattress. 

"Nothing  would  suit  me  better,  Mr.  Jones,  than  your 
plan  of  prompt  action,  and  I'm  the  luckiest  man  in  the  world 
in  having  such  a  long-headed,  fore-handed  neighbor  to  start 
with.  I  know  you'll  make  a  good  bargain  for  the  other 
team,  and  before  I  sleep  to-night  I  wish  to  square  up  for  every- 
thing. I  mean  at  least  to  begin  business  in  this  way  at 
Maizeville." 

"Oh,  go  slow,  go  slow!"  said  Mr.  Jones.     "The  town 


68  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

will  mob  you  if  they  find  youVe  got  ready  money  in  March. 
John  junior  will  be  over  with  a  pot  of  coffee  and  a  jug  of 
milk  in  a  few  minutes,  and  we'll  be  off  sharp." 

There  was  a  patter  of  feet  overhead,  and  soon  Bobsey 
came  tearing  down,  half  wild  with  excitement  over  the 
novelty  of  everything.  He  started  for  the  door  as  if  he  were 
going  head  first  into  the  snow. 

I  caught  him,  and  said :  "Do  you  see  that  chair  ?  Well, 
we  all  have  a  busy  day  before  us.  You  can  help  a  good  deal, 
and  play  a  little,  but  you  can't  hinder  and  pester  according 
to  your  own  sweet  will  one  bit.  You  must  either  obey 
orders  or  else  be  put  under  arrest  and  tied  in  the  chair." 

To  go  into  the  chair  to-day  would  be  torture  indeed, 
and  the  little  fellow  was  sobered  at  once. 

The  others  soon  joined  us,  eager  to  see  everything  by  the 
broad  light  of  day,  and  to  enter  upon  the  task  of  getting 
settled.  We  had  scarcely  come  together  before  John 
junior  appeared  with  the  chief  features  of  our  breakfast. 
The  children  scanned  this  probable  playmate  very  curiously, 
and  some  of  us  could  hardly  repress  a  smile  at  his  appearance. 
He  was  even  more  sandy  than  his  father.  Indeed  his  hair 
and  eyebrows  were  nearly  white,  but  out  of  his  red  and 
almost  full-moon  face  his  mother's  black  eyes  twinkled 
shrewdly.  They  now  expressed  only  good-will  and  bashful- 
ness.  Every  one  of  us  shook  hands  with  him  so  cordially 
that  his  boy's  heart  was  evidently  won. 

Merton,  to  break  the  ice  more  fully,  offered  to  show  him 
his  gun,  which  he  had  kept  within  reach  ever  since  we  left 
the  boat.  It  made  him  feel  more  like  a  pioneer,  no  doubt. 
As  he  took  it  from  its  stout  cloth  cover  I  saw  John  junior's 
eyes  sparkle.  Evidently  a  deep  chord  was  touched.  He 
said,  excitedly:  "To-day's  your  time  to  try  it.  A  rabbit 
can't  stir  without  leaving  his  tracks,  and  the  snow  is  so  deep 
and  soft  that  he  can't  get  away.  There's  rabbits  on  your  own 
place.*' 

"O  papa,"  cried  my  boy,  fairly  trembling  with  eager- 
ness, "can't  I  go?" 


SELF-DENIAL    AND    ITS   REWARD  69 

"I  need  you  very  much  this  morning.'' 

*^But,  papa,  others  will  be  out  before  me,  and  I  may  lose 
my  chance;''  and  he  was  half  ready  to  cry. 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "there  is  a  risk  of  that.  Well,  you  shall 
decide  in  this  case,"  I  added,  after  a  moment,  seeing  a  chance 
to  do  a  little  character-building.  "It  is  rarely  best  to  put 
pleasure  before  business  or  prudence.  If  you  go  out  into  the 
snow  with  those  boots,  you  will  spoil  them,  and  very  prob- 
ably take  a  severe  cold.  Yet  you  may  go  if  you  will.  If 
you  help  me  we  can  be  back  by  ten  o'clock,  and  I  will  get 
you  a  pair  of  rubber  boots  as  we  return." 

"Will  there  be  any  chance  after  ten  o'clock?"  he  asked, 
quickly. 

"Well,"  said  John  junior,  in  his  matter-of-fact  way,  "that 
depends.     As  your  pa  says,  there's  a  risk." 

The  temptation  was  too  strong  for  the  moment.  "O 
dear!"  exclaimed  Merton,  "I  may  never  have  so  good  a 
chance  again.  The  snow  will  soon  melt,  and  there  won't  be 
any  more  till  next  winter.  I'll  tie  my  trousers  down  about 
my  boots,  and  I'll  help  all  the  rest  of  the  day  after  I  get 
back." 

"Very  well,"  I  said  quietly:  and  he  began  eating  his 
breakfast — the  abundant  remains  of  our  last  night's  lunch 
— very  rapidly,  while  John  junior  started  o£F  to  get  his  gun. 

I  saw  that  Merton  was  ill  at  ease,  but  I  made  a  sign  to 
his  mother  not  to  interfere.  More  and  more  slowly  he 
finished  his  breakfast,  then  took  his  gun  and  went  to  the  room 
that  would  be  his,  to  load  and  prepare.  At  last  he  came 
down  and  went  out  by  another  door,  evidently  not  wish- 
ing to  encounter  me.  John  junior  met  him,  and  the  boys 
were  starting,  when  John  senior  drove  into  the  yard  and 
shouted,  "John  junior,  step  here  a  moment." 

The  boy  returned  slowly,  Merton  following.  "You  ain't 
said  nothin'  to  me  about  goin'  off  with  that  gun,"  continued 
Mr.   Jones,  severely. 

"Well,  Merton's  pa  said  he  might  go  if  he  wanted  to, 
and  I  had  to  go  along  to  show  him." 


70  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

"That  first  shot  wasn't  exactly  straight,  my  young  friend 
John.  I  told  Merton  that  it  wasn't  best  to  put  pleasure  be- 
fore business,  but  that  he  could  go  if  he  would.  I  wished  to 
let  him  choose  to  do  right,  instead  of  making  him  do  right.'' 

"Oho,  that's  how  the  land  lays.  Well,  John  junior, 
you  can  have  your  choice,  too.  You  may  go  right  on  with 
your  gun,  but  you  know  the  length  and  weight  of  that  strap 
at  home.     Now,  will  you  help  me?  or  go  after  rabbits?" 

The  boy  grinned  pleasantly,  and  replied,  "If  you  had 
said  I  couldn't  go,  I  wouldn't;  but  if  it's  choosin'  between 
shootin'  rabbits  and  a  strappin'  afterward — come  along, 
Merton." 

"Well,  go  along  then,"  chuckled  his  father;  "you've 
made  your  bargain  square,  and  I'll  keep  my  part  of  it." 

"Oh,  hang  the  rabbits!  You  shan't  have  any  strapping 
on  my  account,"  cried  Merton;  and  he  carried  his  gun  res- 
olutely to  his  room  and  locked  the  door  on  it. 

John  junior  quietly  went  to  the  old  barn,  and  hid  his  gun. 

"Gruess  I'll  go  with  you,  pa,"  he  said,  joining  us. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha  1"  laughed  Mr.  Jones.  "It  was  a  good  bar- 
gain to  back  out  of.  Come  now,  let's  all  be  off  as  quick  as 
we  can.  Neighbor  Kollins  down  the  road  will  join  us  as  we 
go  along." 

"Merton,"  I  said,  "see  if  there  isn't  a  barrel  of  apples 
in  the  cellar.     If  you  find  one,  you  can  fill  your  pockets." 

He  soon  returned  with  bulging  pockets  and  a  smiling 
face,  feeling  that  such  virtue  as  he  had  shown  had  soon 
brought  reward.  My  wife  said  that  while  we  were  gone 
she  and  the  children  would  explore  the  house  and  plan  how 
to  arrange  everything.     We  started  in  good  spirits. 

"Here's  where  you  thought  you  was  cast  away  last  night," 
Mr.  Jones  remarked,  as  we  passed  out  of  the  lane. 

The  contrast  made  by  a  few  short  hours  was  indeed  won- 
derful. Then,  in  dense  obscurity,  a  tempest  had  howled 
and  shrieked  about  us;  now,  in  the  unclouded  sunshine,  a 
gemmed  and  sparkling  world  revealed  beauty  everywhere. 

For  a  long  distance  our  sleighs  made  the  first  tracks, 


SELF-DENIAL   AND   ITS   REWARD  H 

and  it  seemed  almost  a  pity  to  sully  the  purity  of  the  white, 
drift-covered  road. 

^^What  a  lot  of  mud's  hid  under  this  snow!"  was  John 
Jones's  prose  over  the  opening  vistas.  "What's  more,  it  will 
show  itself  before  night.  We  can  beat  all  creation  at  mud 
in  Maizeville,  when  once  we  set  about  it.'' 

Merton  laughed,  and  munched  his  apples,  but  I  saw  that 
he  was  impressed  by  winter  scenery  such  as  he  had  never 
looked  upon  before.  Soon,  however,  he  and  John  junior 
were  deep  in  the  game  question,  and  I  noted  that  the  latter 
kept  a  sharp  lookout  along  the  roadside.  Before  long,  while 
passing  a  thicket,  he  shouted,  "There's  tracks,"  and  floun- 
dered out  into  the  snow,  Merton  following. 

"Oh,  come  back,"  growled  his  father. 

"Let  the  boys  have  a  few  moments,"  I  said.  "They 
gave  up  this  morning  about  as  well  as  you  could  expect  of 
boys.  Would  Junior  have  gone  and  taken  a  strapping  if 
Merton  hadn't  returned?" 

"Yes,  indeed  he  would,  and  he  knows  my  strappin's  are 
no  make-believe.  That  boy  has  no  sly,  mean  tricks  to  speak 
of,  but  he's  as  tough  and  obstinate  as  a  mule  sometimes, 
especially  about  shooting  and  fishing.  See  him  now  a-p'intin' 
for  that  rabbit,  like  a  hound." 

True  enough,  the  boy  was  showing  good  woodcraft.  Re- 
straining Merton,  he  cautiously  approached  the  tracks,  which 
by  reason  of  the  lightness  and  depth  of  the  snow  were 
not  very  distinct. 

"He  can't  be  far  away,"  said  Junior,  excitedly.  "Don't 
go  too  fast  till  I  see  which  way  he  was  a-p'intin'.  We  don't 
want  to  follow  the  tracks  back,  but  for'ard.  See,  he  came 
out  of  that  old  wall  there,  he  went  to  these  bushes  and  nibbled 
some  twigs,  and  here  he  goes — here  he  went — here — here — 
yes,  he  went  into  the  wall  again  just  here.  Kow,  Merton, 
watch  this  hole  while  I  jump  over  the  other  side  of  the 
fence  and  see  if  he  comes  out  again.  If  he  makes  a  start, 
grab  him." 

John  Jones  and  I  were  now  almost  as  excited  as  the  boys, 


72  DRIVEN  BACK    TO    EDEN 

and  Mr.  Rollins,  the  neighbor  who  was  following  us,  was 
standing  up  in  his  sleigh  to  see  the  sport.  It  came  quickly; 
As  if  by  gome  instinct  the  rabbit  believed  Junior  to  be  the 
more  dangerous,  and  made  a  break  from  the  wall  almost 
at  Merton's  feet,  with  such  swiftness  and  power  as  to  dash 
by  him  like  a  shot.  The  first  force  of  its  bound  over,  it 
was  caught  by  nature's  trap — snow  too  deep  and  soft  to 
admit  of  rapid  running. 

John  Jones  soon  proved  that  Junior  came  honestly  by 
his  passion  for  hunting.  In  a  moment  he  was  floundering 
through  the  bushes  with  his  son  and  Merton.  In  such  pur- 
suit of  game  my  boy  had  the  advantage,  for  he  was  as  agile 
as  a  cat.  But  a  moment  or  two  elapsed  before  he  caught  up 
with  the  rabbit,  and  threw  himself  upon  it,  then  rose,  white 
as  a  snow-man,  shouting  triumphantly  and  holding  the  little 
creature  aloft  by  its  ears. 

"IN'ever  rate  Junior  for  hunting  again,"  I  said,  laugh- 
ingly, to  Mr.  Jones.     "He's  a  chip  of  the  old  block.'' 

"I  rather  guess  he  is,"  my  neighbor  acknowledged,  with 
a  grin.  "I  own  up  I  used  to  be  pretty  hot  on  such  larkin'. 
We  all  keep  forgettin'  we  was  boys  once." 

As  we  rode  on,  Merton  was  a  picture  of  exultation,  and 
Junior  was  on  the  sharp  lookout  again.  His  father  turned 
on  him  and  said:  "Now  look  a'  here,  enough's  as  good  as  a 
feast.  I'll  blindfold  you  if  you  don't  let  the  tracks  alone. 
Mrs.  Durham  wants  her  things,  so  she  can  begin  to  live. 
Get  up  there;"  and  a  crack  of  the  whip  ended  all  further 
hopes  on  the  part  of  the  boys.  But  they  felt  well  repaid  for 
coming,  and  Merton  assured  Junior  that  he  deserved  half 
the  credit,  for  only  he  knew  how  to  manage  the  hunt. 


OUR  SUNNY   KITCHEN  73 


CHAPTEK  XV 


OUR  SUNNY   KITCHEN 


BEFOEE  we  reached  the  landing  I  had  invested  a 
goodly  sum  in  four  pairs  of  rubber  boots,  for  I  knew 
how  hopeless  it  would  be  to  try  to  keep  Winnie  and 
Bobsey  indoors.  As  for  Mousie,  she  would  have  to  be 
•prudent  until  the  ground  should  become  dry  and  warm. 

There  is  no  need  of  dwelling  long  on  the  bringing  home 
of  our  effects  and  the  getting  to  rights.  We  were  back 
soon  after  ten,  and  found  that  Winnie  and  Bobsey,  having 
exhausted  the  resources  of  the  house,  had  been  permitted 
to  start  at  the  front  door,  and,  with  an  old  fire-shovel  and 
a  piece  of  board,  had  well-nigh  completed  a  path  to  the 
well,  piling  up  the  snow  as  they  advanced,  so  that  their  over- 
shoes were  a  sufficient  protection. 

After  we  had  carried  in  the  things  I  interceded  with 
Mr.  Jones  and  then  told  the  boys  that  they  could  take  their 
guns  and  be  absent  two  or  three  hours  if  they  would  promise 
to  help  faithfully  the  rest  of  the  day. 

I  had  bought  at  Maizeville  Landing  such  provisions,  tools, 
etc.,  as  I  should  need  immediately.  Therefore  I  did  not 
worry  because  the  fickle  March  sky  was  clouding  up  again 
with  the  promise  of  rain.  A  heavy  downpour  now  with 
snow  upon  the  ground  would  cause  almost  a  flood,  but  I 
felt  that  we  could  shut  the  door  and  find  the  old  house  a  very 
comfortable  ark. 

"A  smart  warm  rain  would  be  the  best  thing  that  could 
happen  to  yer,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  as  he  helped  me  carry  in 
furniture  and  put  up  beds;   ^^it  would  take  the  snow  off. 


74  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

E'at'rally  you  want  to  get  out  on  the  bare  ground,  for  there's 
alius  a  lot  of  clearin'  up  to  be  done  in  the  spring  and  old 
man  Jamison  was  poorly  last  year  and  didn't  keep  things  up 
to  the  mark." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "I  am  as  eager  to  get  to  work  out- 
doors as  the  boys  were  to  go  after  rabbits.  I  believe  I 
shall  like  the  work,  but  that  is  not  the  question.  I  did 
not  come  to  the  country  to  amuse  myself,  like  so  many  city 
people.  I  don't  blame  them;  I  wish  I  could  afford  farming 
for  fun.  I  came  to  earn  a  living  for  my  wife  and  children, 
and  I  am  anxious  to  be  about  it.  I  won't  ask  you  for  any- 
thing except  advice.  I've  only  had  a  city  training,  and 
my  theories  about  farming  would  perhaps  make  you  smile. 
But  I've  seen  enough  of  you  already  to  feel  that  you  are 
inclined  to  be  kind  and  neighborly,  and  the  best  way  to 
show  this  will  be  in  helping  me  to  good,  sound,  practical, 
common-sense  advice.  But  you  mustn't  put  on  airs,  or  be 
impatient  with  me.  Shrewd  as  you  are,  I  could  show  you 
some  things  in  the  city." 

"Oh,  I'd  be  a  sight  queerer  there  than  you  here.  I 
see  your  p'int,  and  if  you'll  come  to  me  I  won't  let  you  make 
no  blunders  I  wouldn't  make  myself.  Perhaps  that  ain't 
saying  a  great  deal,  though." 

By  this  time  everything  had  been  brought  in  and  either 
put  in  place  or  stowed  out  of  the  way,  until  my  wife  could 
decide  where  and  how  she  would  arrange  things. 

"ISTow,"  I  said,  when  we  had  finished,  "carry  out  our 
agreement." 

Mr.  Jones  gave  me  a  wink  and  drove  away. 

Our  agreement  was  this — ^first,  that  he  and  Mr.  Kol- 
lins,  the  owner  of  the  other  team,  should  be  paid  in  full  before 
night;  and  second,  that  Mrs.  Jones  should  furnish  us  our  din- 
ner, in  which  the  chief  dish  should  be  a  pot-pie  from  the 
rabbit  caught  by  Merton,  and  that  Mr.  Jones  should  bring 
everything  over  at  one  o'clock. 

My  wife  was  so  absorbed  in  unpacking  her  china,  kitchen- 
utensils,  and  groceries  that  she  was  unaware  of  the  flight  of 


OUR   SUNNY  KITCHEN  75 

time,  but  at  last  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  "I  declare  it's  din- 
ner-time !" 

''E'ot  quite  yet,"  I  said;  "dinner  will  be  ready  at  one." 

"It  will?  Oh,  indeed!  since  we  are  in  the  country  we 
are  to  pick  up  what  we  can,  like  the  birds.  You  intend 
to  invite  us  all  down  to  the  apple  barrel,  perhaps." 

"Certainly,  whenever  you  wish  to  go;  but  we'll  have  a 
hot  dinner  at  one  o'clock,  and  a  game  dinner  into  the  bar- 
gain." 

"I've  heard  the  boys'  guns  occasionally,  but  I  haven't 
seen  the  game,  and  it's  after  twelve  now." 

"Papa  has  a  secret — a  surprise  for  us,"  cried  Mousie; 
"I  can  see  it  in  his  eyes." 

"E'ow,  Eobert,  I  know  what  you've  been  doing.  You 
have  asked  Mrs.  Jones  to  furnish  a  dinner.  You  are  extrav- 
agant, for  I  could  have  picked  up  something  that  would 
have  answered." 

"]^o;  I've  been  very  prudent  in  saving  your  time  and 
strength,  and  saving  these  is  sometimes  the  best  economy 
in  the  world.  Mousie  is  nearer  right.  The  dinner  is  a 
secret,  and  it  has  been  furnished  chiefly  by  one  of  the 
family." 

"Well,  I'm  too  busy  to  guess  riddles  to-day;  but  if  my 
appetite  is  a  guide,  it  is  nearly  time  we  had  your  secret." 

"You  would  not  feel  like  that  after  half  an  hour  over 
a  hot  stove.  !N'ow  you  will  be  interrupted,  in  getting  to 
rights,  only  long  enough  to  eat  your  dinner.  Then  Mousie 
and  Merton  and  Winnie  will  clear  up  everything,  and  be- 
fore night  you  will  feel  settled  enough  to  take  things  easy 
till  to-morrow." 

"I  know  your  thoughtfulness  for  me,  if  not  your  secret," 
she  said,  gratefully,  and  was  again  putting  things  where, 
from  housewifely  experience,  she  knew  they  would  be 
handy. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jamison  had  clung  to  their  old-fashioned 
ways,  and  had  done  their  cooking  over  the  open  fire,  using 
the  swinging  crane  which  is  now  employed  chiefly  in  pic- 


76  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

tures.  This,  for  the  sake  of  the  picture  it  made,  we  pro- 
posed to  keep  as  it  had  been  left,  although  at  times  it  might 
answer  some  more  prosaic  purpose. 

At  the  eastern  end  of  the  house  was  a  single  room,  added 
unknown  years  ago,  and  designed  to  be  a  bed-chamber.  Of 
late  it  had  been  used  as  a  general  storage  and  lumber  room, 
and  when  I  first  inspected  the  house,  I  had  found  little  in 
this  apartment  of  service  to  us.  So  I  had  asked  Mr.  Jones  to 
remove  all  that  I  did  not  care  for,  and  to  have  the  room 
cleansed,  satisfied  that  it  would  just  suit  my  wife  as  a 
kitchen.  It  was  large,  having  windows  facing  the  east  and 
south,  and  therefore  it  would  be  light  and  cheerful,  as  a 
kitchen  ever  should  be,  especially  when  the  mistress  of  the 
house  is  cook.  There  Mr.  Jones  and  I  set  up  the  excellent 
stove  that  I  had  brought  from  New  York — one  to  which  my 
wife  was  accustomed,  and  from  which  she  could  conjure 
a  rare  good  dinner  when  she  gave  her  mind  to  it.  !Now 
as  she  moved  back  and  forth,  in  such  sunlight  as  the  cloud- 
ing sky  permitted,  she  appeared  the  picture  of  pleased  con- 
tent. 

"It  cheers  one  up  to  enter  a  kitchen  like  this,"  she  said. 

"It  is  to  be  your  garden  for  a  time  also,"  I  exclaimed  to 
Mousie.  "I  shall  soon  have  by  this  east  window  a  table 
with  shallow  boxes  of  earth,  and  in  them  you  can  plant  some 
of  your  flower-seeds.  I  only  ask  that  I  may  have  two  of  the 
boxes  for  early  cabbages,  lettuce,  tomatoes,  etc.  You  and 
your  plants  can  take  a  sun-bath  every  morning  until  it  is 
warm  enough  to  go  out  of  doors,  and  you'll  find  the  plants 
won't  die  here  as  they  did  in  the  dark,  gas-poisoned  city  flat." 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  going  to  grow  faster  and  stronger 
than  the  plants,"  cried  the  happy  child. 

Junior  and  Merton  now  appeared,  each  carrying  a  rab- 
bit. My  boy's  face,  however,  wasi  clouded,  and  he  said,  a 
little  despondently,  "I  can't  shoot  straight — missed  every 
time ;  and  Junior  shot  'em  after  I  had  fired  and  missed." 

"Pshaw!"  cried  Junior;  "Merton's  got  to  learn  to  take 


;     '  OUR  SUNNY  KITCHEN  77 

a  quick  steady  sight,  like  every  one  else.  He  gets  too  ex- 
cited/' 

"That's  just  it,  my  boy,"  I  said.  "You  shall  go  down  by 
the  creek  and  fire  at  a  mark  a  few  times  every  day,  and 
you'll  soon  hit  it  every  time.  Junior's  head  is  too  level  to 
think  that  anything  can  be  done  well  without  practice.  Now, 
Junior,"  I  added,  "run  over  home  and  help  your  father 
bring  us  our  dinner,  and  then  you  stay  and  help  us  eat  it." 

Eather  and  son  soon  appeared,  well  laden.  Winnie  and 
Bobsey  came  in  ravenous  from  their  path-making,  and  all 
agreed  that  we  had  already  grown  one  vigorous  rampant 
Maizeville  crop — an  appetite. 

The  pot-pie  was  exulted  over,  and  the  secret  of  its  ex- 
istence explained.  Even  Junior  laughed  till  the  tears  came 
as  I  described  him,  his  father,  and  Merton,  floundering 
through  the  deep  snow  after  the  rabbit,  and  we  all  congratu- 
lated Merton  as  the  one  who  had  provided  our  first  country 
dinner. 


73  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTEE  XVI 

MAKING  A  PLACE  FOR  CHICKENS 

BEFOKE  the  meal  was  over,  I  said,  seriously,  "ITow, 
boys,  there  must  be  no  more  hunting  until  I  find  out 
about  the  game-laws.  They  should  be  obeyed,  espe- 
cially by  sportsmen.  I  don't  think  that  we  are  forbidden  to 
kill  rabbits  on  our  own  place,  particularly  when  they 
threaten  to  be  troublesome;  and  the  hunt  this  morning  was 
so  unexpected  that  I  did  not  think  of  the  law,  which  might 
be  used  to  make  us  trouble.  You  killed  the  other  rabbits 
on  this  place.  Junior?" 

"Yes,  sir,  both  of  'em." 

"Well,  hereafter  you  must  look  after  hawks,  and  other 
enemies  of  poultry.  Especially  do  I  hope  you  will  never 
fire  at  our  useful  song-birds.  If  boys  throughout  the  country 
would  band  together  to  protect  game  when  out  of  season,, 
they  would  soon  have  fine  sport  in  the  autumn." 

In  the  afternoon  we  let  Winnie  and  Bobsey  expend 
their  energy  in  making  paths  and  lanes  in  every  direction 
through  the  snow,  which  was  melting  rapidly  in  the  south 
wind.  By  three  o'clock  the  rain  began  to  fall,  and  when 
darkness  set  in  there  was  a  gurgling  sound  of  water  on 
every  side.  Our  crackling  fire  made  the  warmth  and  com- 
fort within  seem  tenfold  more  cheery. 

A  hearty  supper,  prepared  in  our  own  kitchen,  made 
us  feel  that  our  home  machinery  had  fairly  started,  and  we 
knew  that  it  would  run  more  and  more  smoothly.  March 
was  keeping  up  its  bad  name  for  storm  and  change.  The 
wind  was  again  roaring,  but  laden  now  with  rain,  and  in 


MAKING   A    PLACE   FOR   CHICKENS  79 

gusty  sheets  the  heavy  drops  dashed  against  the  windows. 
But  our  old  house  kept  us  dry  and  safe,  although  it  rocked 
a  little  in  the  blasts.  They  soon  proved  a  lullaby  for  our 
second  night  at  home. 

After  breakfast  the  following  morning,  with  Merton, 
Winnie,  and  Bobsey,  I  started  out  to  see  if  any  damage  had 
been  done.  The  sky  was  still  clouded,  but  the  rain  had 
ceased.  Our  rubber  boots  served  us  well,  for  the  earth  was 
like  an  over-full  sponge,  while  down  every  little  incline 
and  hollow  a  stream  was  murmuring. 

The  old  barn  showed  the  need  of  a  good  many  nails 
to  be  driven  here  and  there,  and  a  deal  of  mending.  Then 
it  would  answer  for  corn-stalks  and  other  coarse  fodder. 
The  new  barn  had  been  fairly  built,  and  the  interior  was 
dry.  It  still  contained  as  much  hay  as  would  be  needed 
for  the  keeping  of  a  horse  and  cow  until  the  new  crop  should 
be  harvested. 

"Papa,"  cried  Winnie,  "where  is  the  chicken  place  ?" 

"That  is  one  of  the  questions  we  must  settle  at  once," 
I  replied.  "As  we  were  coming  out  I  saw  an  old  coop  in  the 
orchard.     We'll  go  and  look  at  it." 

It  was  indeed  old  and  leaky,  and  had  poultry  been  there 
the  previous  night  they  would  have  been  half  drowned  on 
their  perches.  "This  might  do  for  a  summer  cottage  for 
your  chickens,  Winnie,"  I  continued,  "but  never  for  a  winter 
house.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  barn,  for  I  think  I  remember 
a  place  that  will  just  suit,  with  some  changes." 

Now  the  new  barn  had  been  built  on  a  hillside,  and  had 
an  ample  basement,  from  which  a  room  extending  well  into 
the  bank  had  been  partitioned,  thus  promising  all  one  could 
desire  as  a  cellar  for  apples  and  roots.  The  entrance  to  this 
basement  faced  the  east,  and  on  each  side  of  it  was  a  win- 
dow. To  the  right  of  the  entrance  were  two  cow-stalls,  and 
to  the  left  was  an  open  space  half  full  of  mouldy  corn- 
stalks and  other  rubbish. 

"See  here,  Winnie  and  Merton,"  I  said,  after  a  little 
examination,  "I  think  we  could  clear  out  this  space  on  the 

Roe— IX—S 


80  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

left,  partition  it  off,  make  a  door,  and  keep  the  chickens 
here.  After  that  window  is  washed,  a  good  deal  of  sun- 
light can  come  in.  Tve  read  that  in  cold  weather  poultry 
need  warmth  and  light,  and  must  be  kept  dry.  Here  we  can 
secure  all  these  conditions.  Having  a  home  for  ourselves, 
suppose  we  set  to  work  to  make  a  home  for  the  chickens." 

This  idea  delighted  Winnie,  and  pleased  Merton  almost  as 
much  as  hunting  rabbits.  "Now,"  I  resumed,  "we  will  go  to 
the  house  and  get  what  we  need  for  the  work." 

"Winifred,"  I  said  to  my  wife,  "can  you  let  Winnie  have 
a  small  pail  of  hot  water  and  some  old  rags?" 

"What  are  you  up  to  now?" 

"You  know  all  about  cleaning  house;  we  are  going  to 
clean  barn,  and  make  a  place  for  Winnie^s  chickens.  There 
is  a  window  in  their  future  bedroom — roost-room  I  suppose 
I  should  call  it — that  looks  as  if  it  had  never  been  washed, 
and  to  get  off  the  dust  of  years  will  be  Winnie's  task,  while 
Merton,  Bobsey,  and  I  create  an  interior  that  should  satisfy 
a  knowing  hen.  We'll  make  nests,  too,  children,  that  will 
suggest  to  the  biddies  that  they  should  proceed  at  once  to 
business." 

"But  where  are  the  chickens  to  come  from?"  my  wife 
asked,  as  she  gave  the  pan  to  Merton  to  carry  for  his  sister. 

"Oh,  John  Jones  will  put  me  in  the  way  of  getting  them 
soon;"  and  we  started  out  to  our  morning's  work.  Mousie 
looked  after  us  wistfully,  but  her  mother  soon  found  light 
tasks  for  her,  and  she  too  felt  that  she  was  helping.  "Re- 
member, Mousie,"  I  said,  in  parting,  "that  I  have  three 
helpers,  and  surely  mamma  needs  one;"  and  she  was  con- 
tent. 

Merton  at  first  was  for  pitching  all  the  old  corn-stalks 
out  into  the  yard,  but  I  said:  "That  won't  do.  We  shall 
need  a  cow  as  well  as  chickens,  and  these  stalks  must  be  kept 
dry  for  her  bedding.  We'll  pile  them  up  in  the  inner  empty 
stall.     You  can  help  at  that,  Bobsey;"  and  we  set  ,to  work. 

Under  Winnie's  quick  hands  more  and  more  light  came 
through  the  window.     With  a  fork  I  lifted  and  shook  up 


MAKING    A    PLACE   FOB    CHICKENS  81 

the  stalks,  and  the  boys  carried  them  to  the  empty  stall. 
At  last  we  came  to  rubbish  that  was  so  damp  and 
decayed  that  it  would  be  of  no  service  indoors,  so  we  placed 
it  on  a  barrow  and  I  wheeled  it  out  to  one  corner  of  the 
yard.  At  last  we  came  down  to  a  hard  earth  floor,  and 
with  a  hoe  this  was  cleared  and  made  smooth. 

"Merton,"  I  said,  "I  saw  an  old  broom  upstairs.  Run 
and  get  it,  and  we'll  brush  down  the  cobwebs  and  sweep 
out,  and  then  we  shall  be  ready  to  see  about  the  partition." 


82  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTEK  XVII 

GOOD  BARGAINS  IN  MAPLE  SUGAR 

BY  eleven  o'clock  we  had  all  the  basement  cleaned 
with  litter;  and  Winnie  had  washed  the  windows, 
except  the  one  cow-stall  that  was  filled  to  the  ceiling 
Then  John  Jones's  lank  figure  darkened  the  doorway,  and 
he  cried,  "Hello,  neighbor,  what  ye  drivin'  at?" 

"Look  around  and  see,  and  then  tell  us  where  to  get  a 
lot  of  chickens." 

"Well,  I  declare!  How  you've  slicked  things  up! 
You're  not  goin'  to  scrub  the  dirt  floor,  are  you?  Well, 
well,  this  looks  like  business — ^just  the  place  for  chickens. 
Wonder  old  man  Jamison  didn't  keep  'em  here;  but  Ke 
didn't  care  for  fowls.  ISTow  I  think  of  it,  there's  to  be  a 
vandoo  the  first  of  the  week,  and  there  was  a  lot  o'  chickens 
printed  on  the  poster." 

I  smiled. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  the  chickens  themselves  was 
on  the  poster,  but  a  statement  that  a  lot  would  be  sold  at 
auction.  I'll  bid  'em  in  for  you  if  they're  a  good  lot.  If 
you,  a  city  chap,  was  to  bid,  some  straw-bidder  would  raise 
'em  agin  you.  I  know  what  they're  wuth,  and  everybody 
there'll  know  I  do,  and  they'll  try  no  sharp  games  with  me." 

"That  will  suit  me  exactly,  Mr.  Jones.  I  don't  want  any 
game-fowls  of  that  kind." 

"Ha,  ha!  I  see  the  p'int.  Have  you  looked  into  the 
root-cellar  ?" 

"Yes ;  we  opened  the  door  and  looked,  but  it  was  dark 
as  a  pocket." 

"Well,  I  don't  b'lieve  in  matches  around  a  barn,  but  I'll 


A   BARGAIN   IN   MAPLE   SUGAR  83 

show  you  something;"  and  he  opened  the  door,  struck  a 
match,  and,  holding  it  aloft,  revealed  a  heap  of  turnips, 
another  of  carrots,  five  barrels  of  potatoes,  and  three  of 
apples.  The  children  pounced  upon  the  last  with  appetites 
sharpened  by  their  morning's  work. 

^*You  see,"  resumed  Mr.  Jones,  "these  were  here  when  old 
man  Jamison  died.  If  I  hadn't  sold  the  place  I  should  have 
taken  them  out  before  long,  and  got  rid  of  what  I  didn't 
want.  Now  you  can  have  the  lot  at  a  low  figure,"  which 
he  named. 

*^I'll  take  them,"  I  said,  promptly. 

"The  carrots  make  it  look  like  a  gold-mine,"  cried 
Merton. 

"Well,  you're  wise,"  resumed  Mr.  Jones.  "You'll  have 
to  get  a  cow  and  a  horse,  and  here's  fodder  for  'em  handy. 
Perhaps  I  can  pick  'em  out  for  you,  too,  at  the  vandoo. 
You  can  go  along,  and  if  anything  strikes  your  fancy  I'll  bid 
on  it." 

"O  papa,"  cried  the  children,  in  chorus,  "can  we  go  with 
you  to  the  vandoo?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.     When  does  the  sale  take  place?" 

^^Next  Tuesday.  That's  a  good  breed  of  potatoes.  Jami- 
son alius  had  the  best  of  everything.  They'll  furnish  you 
with  seed,  and  supply  your  table  till  new  ones  come.  I 
guess  you  could  sell  a  barrel  or  so  of  apples  at  a  rise." 

"I've  found  a  market  for  them  already.  Look  at  these 
children ;  and  I'm  good  for  half  a  barrel  myself  if  they 
don't  decay  too  soon.  Where  could  we  find  better  or 
cheaper  food  ?     All  the  books  say  that  apples  are  fattening." 

"That's  true  of  man  and  beast^  if  the  books  do  say  iU 
They'll  keep  in  this  cool,  dark  cellar  longer  than  you'd  things 
— longer  than  you'll  let  'em,  from  the  way  they're  disappear- 
in'.     I  guess  I'll  try  one." 

"Certainly,  a  dozen,  just  as  if  they  were  still  yours." 

"They  wasn't  mine — they  belonged  to  the  Jamison  estate. 
I'll  help  myself  now  quicker'n  r>  would  before.  I  might 
come  it  over  a  live  man,  you  know,  but  not  a  dead  one." 


84  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

"Fd  trust  you  with  either.'^ 

While  I  was  laughing  at  this  phase  of  honesty,  he  re- 
sumed :  "This  is  the  kind  of  place  to  keep  apples — cool,  dry, 
dark,  even  temperature.  Why,  they're  as  crisp  and  juicy 
as  if  just  off  the  trees.  I  came  over  to  make  a  suggestion. 
There's  a  lot  of  sugar-maple  trees  on  your  place,  down  by  the 
brook.  Why  not  tap  'em,  and  set  a  couple  of  pots  b'ilin'  over 
your  open  fire?  You'd  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone;  the 
fire'd  keep  you  warm,  and  make  a  lot  of  sugar  in  the 
bargain.     I  opinion,  too,  the  children  would  like  the  fun." 

They  were  already  shouting  over  the  idea,  but  I  said 
dubiously,  "How  about  the  pails  to  catch  the  sap?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "I've  thought  of  that.  We've 
a  lot  of  spare  milk-pails  and  pans,  that  we're  not  usin'. 
Junior  understands  the  business;  and,  as  we're  not  very 
busy,  he  can  help  you  and  take  his  pay  in  sugar." 

The  subject  of  poultry  was  forgotten;  and  the  chil- 
dren scampered  off  to  the  house  to  tell  of  this  new  project. 

Before  Mr.  Jones  and  I  left  the  basement,  he  said ;  "You 
don't  want  any  partition  here  at  present,  only  a  few  perches 
for  the  fowls.  There's  a  fairish  shed,  you  remember,  in 
the  upper  barnyard,  and  when  'tain't  very  cold  or  stormy 
the  cow  will  do  well  enough  there  from  this  out.  The 
weather'll  be  growin'  milder  'most  every  day,  and  in  rough 
spells  you  can  put  her  in  here.  Chickens  won't  do  her  any 
harm.  Law  sakes !  when  the  main  conditions  is  right,  what's 
the  use  of  havin'  everything  jes'  so?  It's  more  important 
to  save  your  time  and  strength  and  money.  You'll  find 
enough  to  do  without  one  stroke  that  ain't  needful."  Thus 
John  Jones  fulfilled  his  office  of  mentor. 


BUTTERNUTS   AND    BO  BSE  Y  8   PERIL  85 


CHAPTER    XVin 

BUTTERNUTS   AND   BOBSEY'S   PERIL 

IEESTRAESTED  the  children  until  after  dinner,  which 
my  wife  hastened.  By  that  time  Junior  was  on  hand 
with  a  small  wagon-load  of  pails  and  pans. 

"Oh,  dear,  I  wanted  you  to  help  me  this  afternoon," 
my  wife  had  said,  but,  seeing  the  dismayed  look  on  the  chil- 
dren's faces,  had  added,  ^'Well,  there's  no  hurry,  I  suppose. 
We  are  comfortable,  and  we  shall  have  stormy  days  when 
you  can't  be  out." 

I  told  her  that  she  was  wiser  than  the  queen  of  Sheba 
and  did  not  need  to  go  to  Solomon. 

The  horse  was  put  in  the  barn,  for  he  would  have  mired 
in  the  long  spongy  lane  and  the  meadow  which  we  must 
cross.     So  we  decided  to  run  the  light  wagon  down  by  hand. 

Junior  had  the  auger  with  which  to  bore  holes  in  the 
trees.  "I  tapped  'em  last  year,  as  old  Mr.  Jamison  didn't 
care  about  doin'  it,"  said  the  boy,  "an'  I  b'iled  the  pot  of  sap 
down  in  the  grove ;  but  that  was  slow,  cold  work.  I  saved  the 
little  wooden  troughs  I  used  last  year,  and  they  are  in  one 
of  the  pails.  I  brought  over  a  big  kittle,  too,  which  mother 
let  me  have,  and  if  we  can  keep  this  and  yours  a-goin',  we'll 
soon  have  some  sugar. 

'Away  we  went,  down  the  lane,  Junior  and  Merton  in 
the  shafts,  playing  horses.  I  pushed  in  some  places,  and  held 
back  in  others,  while  Winnie  and  Bobsey  picked  their  way 
between  puddles  and  quagmires.  The  snow  was  so  nearly  gone 
that  it  lay  only  on  the  northern  slopes.  We  had  heard  the  deep 
roar  of  the  Moodna  Creek  all  the  morning,  and  had  meant  to 
go  and  see  it  right  after  breakfast;  but  providing  a  chicken- 


86  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

home  had  proved  a  greater  attraction  to  the  children,  and  a 
better  investment  of  time  for  me.  J^ow  from  the  top 
of  the  last  hillside  we  saw  a  great  flood  rushing  by  with  a 
hoarse,  surging  noise. 

^ ^Winnie,  Bobsey,  if  you  go  near  the  water  without  me 
you  march  straight  home/'  I  cried. 

They  promised  never  to  go,  but  I  thought  Bobsey  pro- 
tested a  little  too  much.  Away  we  went  down  the  hill, 
skirting  what  was  now  a  good-sized  brook.  I  knew  the  trees, 
from  a  previous  visit;  and  the  maple,  when  once  known, 
can  be  picked  out  anywhere,  so  genial,  mellow,  and  gener- 
ous an  aspect  has  it,  even  when  leafless. 

The  roar  of  the  creek  and  the  gurgle  of  the  brook  made 
genuine  March  music,  and  the  children  looked  and  acted  as  if 
th«re  were  nothing  left  to  be  desired.  When  Junior  showed 
them  a  tree  that  appeared  to  be  growing  directly  out  of  a 
flat  rock,  they  expressed  a  wonder  which  no  museum  could 
have  excited. 

But  scenery,  and  even  rural  marvels,  could  not  keep  their 
attention  long.  All  were  intent  on  sap  and  sugar,  and  Junior 
was  speedily  at  work.  The  moment  he  broke  the  brittle, 
juicy  bark,  the  tree's  life-blood  began  to  flow. 

"See,"  he  cried,  "they  are  like  cows  wanting  to  be 
milked." 

As  fast  as  he  inserted  his  little  wooden  troughs  into  the 
trees,  we  placed  pails  and  pans  under  them,  and  began  har- 
vesting the  first  crop  from  our  farm. 

This  was  rather  slow  work,  and  to  keep  Winnie  and  Bob- 
sey busy  I  told  them  they  could  gather  sticks  and  leaves, 
pile  them  up  at  the  foot  of  a  rock  on  a  dry  hillside,  and  we 
would  have  a  fire.  I  meanwhile  picked  up  the  dead  branches 
that  strewed  the  ground,  and  with  my  axe  trimmed  them  for 
use  in  summer,  when  only  a  quick  blaze  would  be  needed 
to  boil  the  supper  kettle.  To  city-bred  eyes  wood  seemed 
a  rare  luxury,  and  although  there  was  enough  lying  about 
to  supply  us  for  a  year,  I  could  not  get  over  the  feeling  that 
it  must  all  be  cared  for. 


BUTTERNUTS   AND    BOBSEY'S   PERIL  87 

To  children  there  are  few  greater  delights  than  that  of 
building  a  fire  in  the  woods,  and  on  that  cloudy,  chilly  day 
our  blaze  against  the  rock  brought  solid  comfort  to  us  all, 
even  though  the  smoke  did  get  into  our  eyes.  Winnie  and 
Bobsey,  little  bundles  of  energy  that  they  were,  seemed  un- 
wearied in  feeding  the  flames,  while  Merton  sought  to  hide 
his  excitement  by  imitating  Junior's  stolid,  business-like 
ways. 

Finding  him  alone  once,  I  said:  "Merton,  don't  you  re- 
member paying  to  me  once,  ^I'd  like  to  know  what  there  is 
for  a  boy  to  do  in  this  street'?  Don't  you  think  there's 
something  for  a  boy  to  do  on  this  farm?" 

"O  papa!"  he  cried,  "I'm  just  trying  to  hold  in.  So 
much  has  happened,  and  I've  had  such  a  good  time,  that  it 
seems  as  if  I  had  been  here  a  month ;  then  again  the  hours 
pass  like  minutes.     See,  the  sun  is  low  already." 

"It's  all  new  and  exciting  now,  Merton,  but  there  will  be 
long  hours — ^yes,  days  and  weeks — when  you'll  have  to  act 
like  a  man,  and  to  do  work  because  it  ought  to  be  done  and 
must  be  done." 

"The  same  would  be  true  if  we  stayed  in  town,"  he  said. 

Soon  I  decided  that  it  was  time  for  the  younger  children 
to  .return,  for  I  meant  to  give  my  wife  all  the  help  I  could, 
before  bedtime.  We  first  hauled  the  wagon  back,  and  then 
Merton  said  he  would  bring  what  sap  had  been  caught. 
Junior  had  to  go  home  for  a  time  to  do  his  evening  "chores," 
but  he  promised  to  return  before  dark  to  help  carry  in  the 
sap. 

"There'll  be  frost  to-night,  and  we'll  get  the  biggest  run 
in  the  morning,"  was  hia  encouraging  remark,  as  he  made 
ready  to  depart. 

Mrs.  Jones  had  been  over  to  see  my  wife,  and  they  prom- 
ised to  become  good  friends.  I  set  to  work  putting  things 
in  better  shape,  and  bringing  in  a  good  pile  of  wood.  Mer- 
ton soon  appeared  with  a  brimming  pail.  A  kettle  was  hung 
on  the  crane,  but  before  the  sap  was  placed  over  the  fire  all 
must  taste  it,  just  as  it  had  been  distilled  by  nature.     And 


88  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

all  were  quickly  satisfied.  Even  Mousie  said  it  was  "too 
watery,'^  and  Winnie  made  a  face  as  she  exclaimed,  "I  de- 
clare, Merton,  I  believe  you  filled  the  pails  from  the  brook !" 

"Patience,  youngsters;  sap,  as  well  as  some  other  things, 
is  better  for  boiling  down." 

"Oh  what  a  remarkable  truth !"  said  my  wife,  who  never 
lost  a  chance  to  give  me  a  little  dig. 

I  laughed,  and  then  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  floor^ 
lost  in  thought. 

"A  brown  study!  What  theory  have  you  struck  now, 
Kobert?" 

"I  was  thinking  how  some  women  kept  their  husbands  in 
love  with  them  by  being  saucy.  It's  an  odd  way,  and  yet  it 
seems  effective." 

"It  depends  upon  the  kind  of  sauce,  Kobert,"  she  said 
with  a  knowing  glance  and  a  nod. 

By  the  time  it  was  dark,  we  had  both  the  kettles  boiling 
and  bubbling  over  the  fire,  and  fine  music  they  made.  With 
Junior  for  guest,  we  enjoyed  our  supper,  which  consisted 
principally  of  baked  apples  and  milk. 


'"Bubble,  bubble,' 
'Toil'  and  no  'trouble'—' 


'  "Yet,  worth  speaking  of,"  said  my  wife;  "but  it  must 
come,  I  suppose." 

"We  won't  go  half-way  to  meet  it,  Winifred."      . 

When  the  meal  was  over.  Junior  went  out  on  the  porch 
and  returned  with  a  mysterious  sack. 

"Butternuts!"  he  ejaculated. 

Junior  was  winning  his  way  truly,  and  in  the  children's 
eyes  was  already  a  good  genius,  as  his  father  was  in  mine. 

"O  papa !"  was  the  general  cry,  "can't  we  crack  them  on 
the  hearth?" 

"But  you'll  singe  your  very  eyebrows  off,"  I  said. 

"Mine's  so  white  'twouldn't  matter,"  said  Junior;  "no- 


BUTTERNUTS   AND    BOBSEV'S   PERIL  89 

body'd  miss  'em.  Give  me  a  hammer,  and  111  keep  you 
goin\" 

And  he  did,  on  one  of  the  stones  of  the  hearth,  with  such 
a  lively  rat-tat-snap!  that  it  seemed  a  regular  rhythm. 

"Cracked  in  my  life  well-nigh  on  to  fifty  bushel,  I  guess," 
he  explained,  in  answer  to  our  wonder  at  his  skill. 

And  so  the  evening  passed,  around  the  genial  old  fire- 
place; and  before  the  children  retired  they  smacked  their 
lips  over  sirup  sweet  enough  to  satisfy  them. 

The  following  morning — Saturday — I  vibrated  between 
the  sugar-camp  and  the  barn  and  other  out-buildings,  giving, 
however,  most  of  the  time  to  the  help  of  my  wife  in  getting 
the  house  more  to  her  mind,  and  in  planning  some  work  that 
would  require  a  brief  visit  from  a  carpenter ;  for  I  felt  that 
I  must  soon  bestow  nearly  all  my  attention  on  the  outdoor 
work.  I  managed  to  keep  Bobsey  under  my  eye  for  the 
most  part,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  left  him  for  only  a  few  mo- 
ments at  the  sugar-bush  while  I  carried  up  some  sap.  A  man 
called  to  see  me  on  business,  and  I  was  detained.  Knowing 
the  little  fellow's  proneness  to  mischief,  and  forgetfulness 
of  all  commands,  I  at  last  hastened  back  with  a  half  guilty 
and  worried  feeling. 

I  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  just  in  time  to  see  him 
throw  a  stick  into  the  creek,  lose  his  balance,  and  fall  in. 

With  an  exclamation  of  terror,  his  own  cry  forming  a 
faint  echo,  I  sprang  forward  frantically,  but  the  swift  cur- 
rent caught  and  bore  him  away. 


00  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEK     XIX 

JOHN      JONES,      JUN 

MY  agonized  shout  as  I  saw  Bobsey  swept  away  by 
the  swollen  current  of  the  Moodna  Creek  was  no 
more  prompt  than  his  own  shrill  scream.  It  so 
happened,  or  else  a  kind  Providence  so  ordered  it,  that  Junior 
was  further  down  the  stream,  tapping  a  maple  that  had  been 
overlooked  the  previous  day.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  whirled 
around  in  the  direction  of  the  little  boy's  cry,  with  the  quick- 
ness of  thought  rushed  to  the  bank  and  plunged  in  with  a 
headlong  leap  like  a  Newfoundland  dog.  I  paused,  spell- 
bound, to  watch  him,  knowing  that  I  was  much  too  far  away 
to  be  of  aid,  and  that  all  now  depended  on  the  hardy  country 
lad.  He  disappeared  for  a  second  beneath  the  tide,  and  then 
his  swift  strokes  proved  that  he  was  a  good  swimmer.  In 
a  moment  or  two  he  caught  up  with  Bobsey,  for  the  current 
was  too  swift  to  permit  the  child  to  sink.  Then,  with  a  wis- 
dom resulting  from  experience,  he  let  the  torrent  carry  him 
in  a  long  slant  toward  the  shore,  for  it  would  have  been  hope- 
less to  try  to  stem  the  tide.  Running  as  I  never  ran  before, 
I  followed,  reached  the  bank  where  there  was  an  eddy  in  the 
stream,  sprang  in  up  to  my  waist,  seized  them  both  as  they  ap- 
proached and  dragged  them  to  solid  ground.  Merton  and 
Winnie  meanwhile  stood  near  with  white,  scared  faces. 

Bobsey  was  conscious,  although  he  had  swallowed  some 
water,  and  I  was  soon  able  to  restore  him,  so  that  he  could 
stand  on  his  feet  and  cry :  "I — I — I  w-won't  d-do  so  any — 
any  more." 

Instead  of  punishing  him,  which  he  evidently  expected,  I 


JOHN  JONES,   JUN.  91 

clasped  him  to  my  heart  with  a  nervous  force  that  almost 
made  him  cry  out  with  pain. 

Junior,  meanwhile,  had  coolly  seated  himself  on  a  rock, 
emptied  the  water  out  of  his  shoes,  and  was  tying  them  on 
again,  at  the  same  time  striving  with  all  his  might  to  maintain 
a  stolid  composure  under  Winnie's  grateful  embraces  and 
Morton's  interrupting  hand-shakings.  But  when,  having  be- 
come assured  of  Bobsey's  safety,  I  rushed  forward  and  em- 
braced Junior  in  a  transport  of  gratitude,  his  lip  began  to 
quiver  and  two  great  tears  mingled  with  the  water  that  was 
dripping  from  his  hair.  Suddenly  he  broke  away,  took  to  his 
heels,  and  ran  toward  his  home,  as  if  he  had  been  caught  in 
some  mischief  and  the  constable  were  after  him.  I  believe 
that  he  would  rather  have  had  at  once  all  the  strappings  his 
father  had  ever  given  him  than  to  have  cried  in  our  pres- 
ence. 

I  carried  Bobsey  home,  and  his  mother,  with  many  ques- 
tionings and  exclamations  of  thanksgiving,  undressed  the 
little  fellow,  wrapped  him  in  flannel,  and  put  him  to  bed, 
where  he  was  soon  sleeping  as  quietly  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

Mrs.  Jones  came  over,  and  we  made  her  rubicund  face 
beam  and  grow  more  round,  if  possible,  as  we  all  praised  her 
boy.  I  returned  with  her,  for  I  felt  that  I  wished  to  thank 
Junior  again  and  again.  But  he  saw  me  coming,  and 
slipped  out  at  the  back  door.  Indeed,  the  brave,  bashful 
boy  was  shy  of  us  for  several  days.  When  at  last  my  wife 
got  hold  of  him,  and  spoke  to  him  in  a  manner  natural  to 
mothers,  he  pooh-poohed  the  whole  affair. 

"I've  swum  in  that  crick  so  often  that  it  was  nothin'  to 
me.  I  only  had  to  keep  cool,  and  that  was  easy  enough 
in  snow  water,  and  the  swift  current  would  keep  us  both  up. 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  anything  more  about  it.  It  kinder 
makes  me  feel — I  don't  know  how — all  over,  you  know." 

But  Junior  soon  learned  that  we  had  adopted  him  into 
our  inmost  hearts,  although  he  compelled  us  to  show  our 
good-will  after  his  own  off-hand  fashion. 


92  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

Sunday  was  ushered  in  with  another  storm,  and  we  spent 
a  long,  quiet,  restful  day,  our  hearts  full  of  thankfulness 
that  the  great  sorrow,  which  might  have  darkened  the  be- 
ginning of  our  country  life,  had  been  so  happily  averted. 

On  Sunday  night  the  wind  veered  around  to  the  north, 
and  on  Monday  morning  the  sky  had  a  clear  metallic  hue 
and  the  ground  was  frozen  hard.  Bobsey  had  not  taken  cold, 
and  was  his  former  self,  except  that  he  was  somewhat  chast- 
ened in  spirit  and  his  bump  of  caution  was  larger.  I  was 
resolved  that  the  day  should  witness  a  good  beginning  of 
our  spring  work,  and  told  Winnie  and  Bobsey  that  they  could 
help  me.  Junior,  although  he  yet  avoided  the  house,  was 
ready  enough  to  help  Merton  with  the  sap.  Therefore  soon 
after  breakfast  we  all  were  busy. 

Around  old  country  places,  especially  where  there  has 
been  some  degree  of  neglect,  much  litter  gathers.  This 
was  true  of  our  new  home  and  its  surroundings.  All  through 
the  garden  were  dry,  unsightly  weeds,  about  the  house  was 
shrubbery  that  had  become  tangled  masses  of  unpruned 
growth,  in  the  orchard  the  ground  was  strewn  with  fallen 
branches,  and  I  could  see  dead  limbs  on  many  of  the  trees. 

Therefore  I  said  to  my  two  little  helpers:  ^^Here  in  this 
open  space  in  the  garden  we  will  begin  our  brush-pile,  and 
we  will  bring  to  it  all  the  refuse  that  we  wish  to  burn. 
You  see  that  we  can  make  an  immense  heap,  for  the  place 
is  so  far  away  from  any  buildings  that,  when  the  wind  goes 
down,  we  can  set  the  pile  on  fire  in  safety,  and  the  ashes 
will  do  the  garden  good.'^ 

During  the  whole  forenoon  I  pruned  the  shrubbery,  and 
raked  up  the  rubbish  which  the  children  carried  by  arm- 
fuls  to  our  prospective  bonfire.  They  soon  wished  to  see 
the  blaze,  but  I  told  them  that  the  wind  was  too  high,  and 
that  I  did  not  propose  to  apply  the  match  until  we  had  a 
heap  half  as  big  as  the  house;  that  it  might  be  several  days 
before  we  should  be  ready,  for  I  intended  to  have  a  tre- 
mendous fire. 

Thus  with  the  lesson  of  restraint  was  given  the  hope  of 


JOHN  JONES,   JUN  93 

something  wonderful.  For  a  long  time  they  were  pleased 
with  the  novelty  of  the  work,  and  then  they  wanted  to  do 
something  else,  but  I  said :  "No,  no ;  you  are  gardeners  now, 
and  I'm  head  gardener.  You  must  both  help  me  till  dinner- 
time. After  that  you  can  do  something  else,  or  play  if  you 
choose;  but  each  day,  even  Bobsey  must  do  some  steady  work 
to  earn  his  dinner.  We  didn't  come  to  the  country  on  a  pic- 
nic, I  can  tell  you.  All  must  do  their  best  to  help  make  a 
living ;"  and  so  without  scruple  I  kept  my  little  squad  busy, 
for  the  work  was  light,  although  it  had  become  monotonous.  ^ 

Mousie  sometimes  aided  her  mother,  and  again  watched 
us  from  the  window  with  great  interest.  I  rigged  upon 
the  barrow  a  rack,  in  which  I  wheeled  the  rubbish  gathered 
at  a  distance ;  and  by  the  time  my  wife's  mellow  voice  called, 
"Come  to  dinner" — how  sweet  her  voice  and  summons  were 
after  long  hours  in  the  keen  March  wind! — we  had  a  pile 
much  higher  than  my  head,  and  the  place  began  to  wear  a 
tidy  aspect. 

Such  appetites,  such  red  cheeks  and  rosy  noses  as  the 
outdoor  workers  brought  to  that  plain  meal!  Mousie  was 
much  pleased  with  the  promise  that  the  bonfire  should  not 
be  lighted  until  some  still,  mild  day  when  she  could  go  out 
and  stand  with  me  beside  it. 

Merton  admitted  that  gathering  the  sap  did  not  keep 
him  busy  more  than  half  the  time ;  so  after  dinner  I  gave  him 
a  hatchet,  and  told  him  to  go  on  with  the  trimming  out  of 
the  fallen  branches  in  our  wood  lot — a  task  that  I  had  begun 
— and  to  carry  all  wood  heavy  enough  for  our  fireplace 
to  a  spot  where  it  could  be  put  into  a  wagon. 

"Your  next  work,  Merton,  will  be  to  collect  all  your 
refuse  trimmings,  and  the  brush  lying  about,  into  a  few 
great  heaps ;  and  by  and  by  we'll  burn  these,  too,  and  gather 
up  the  ashes  carefully,  for  I've  read  and  heard  all  my  life 
that  there  is  nothing  better  for  fruit  then  wood-ashes. 
Some  day,  I  hope,  we  can  begin  to  put  money  in  the  bank; 
for  I  intend  to  give  all  a  chance  to  earn  money  for  them- 
selves, after  they  have  done  their  share  toward  our  general 


94         '  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

effort  to  live  and  thrive.  The  next  best  thing  to  putting 
money  in  the  bank  is  the  gathering  and  saving  of  every- 
thing that  will  make  the  ground  richer.  In  fact,  all  the 
papers  and  books  that  IVe  read  this  winter  agree  that  as 
the  farmer's  land  grows  rich  he  grows  rich.'' 


RASPBERRY  LESSONS  95 


CHAPTEE  XX 

RASPBERRY    LESSONS 

IT  must  be  remembered  that  I  had  spent  all  my  leisure 
during  the  winter  in  reading  and  studying  the  prob- 
lem of  our  country  life.  Therefore  I  knew  that  March 
was  the  best  month  for  pruning  trees,  and  I  had  gained 
a  fairly  correct  idea  how  to  do  this  work.  Until  within  the 
last  two  or  three  years  of  his  life,  old  Mr.  Jamison  had  at- 
tended to  this  task  quite  thoroughly;  and  thus  little  was  left 
for  me  beyond  sawing  away  the  boughs  that  had  recently 
died,  and  cutting  out  the  useless  sprouts  on  the  larger  limbs. 
Before  leaving  the  city  I  had  provided  myself  with  such 
tools  as  I  was  sure  I  should  need;  and  finding  a  ladder 
under  a  shed,  I  attacked  the  trees  vigorously.  The  wind  had 
almost  died  out,  and  I  knew  I  must  make  the  most  of  all 
still  days  in  this  gusty  month.  After  playing  around  for 
a  time,  Winnie  and  Bobsey  concluded  that  gathering  and  pil- 
ing up  my  prunings  would  be  as  good  fun  as  anything 
else;  and  so  I  had  helpers  again. 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Mr.  Jones  appeared, 
and  I  was  glad  to  see  him,  for  there  were  some  kinds  of 
work  about  which  I  wanted  his  advice.  At  one  end  of  the 
garden  were  several  rows  of  blackcap  raspberry  bushes, 
which  had  grown  into  an  awful  snarl.  The  old  canes  that 
had  borne  fruit  the  previous  season  were  still  standing, 
ragged  and  unsightly;  the  new  stalks  that  would  bear  the 
coming  sfeason  sprawled  in  every  direction ;  and  I  had  found 
that  many  tips  of  the  branches  had  grown  fast  in  the  ground. 
I  took  my  neighbor  to  see  this  briery  wilderness,  and  asked 
his  advice. 


96  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

"Have  you  got  a  pair  of  pruning-nippers  ?''  he  asked. 

Before  going  to  the  house  to  get  them,  I  blew  a  shrill 
whistle  to  summon  Merton,  for  I  wished  him  also  to  hear  all 
that  Mr.  Jones  might  say.  I  carried  a  little  metallic  whistle 
one  blast  on  which  was  for  Merton,  two  for  Winnie,  and 
three  for  Bobsey.  When  they  heard  this  call  they  were  to 
come  as  fast  as  their  feet  could  carry  them. 

Taking  the  nippers,  Mr.  Jones  snipped  off  from  one- 
third  to  one-half  the  length  of  the  branches  from  one  of  the 
bushes  and  cut  out  the  old  dead  cane. 

"I  raise  these  berries  myself  for  home  use,"  he  said; 
"and  I  can  tell  you  they  go  nice  with  milk  for  a  July  sup- 
per. You  see,  after  taking  off  so  much  from  these  long 
branches  the  canes  stand  straight  up,  and  will  be  self-support- 
ing, no  matter  how  many  berries  they  bear;  but  here  and 
there's  a  bush  that  has  grown  slant-wise,  or  is  broken  off. 
Kow,  if  I  was  you,  I'd  take  a  crow-bar  'n'  make  a  hole  'long- 
side  these  weakly,  and  slantin'  fellers,  put  in  a  stake,  and 
tie  'em  up  strong.  Then,  soon  as  the  frost  yields,  if  you'll 
get  out  the  grass  and  weeds  that's  started  among  'em,  you'll 
have  a  dozen  bushel  or  more  of  marketable  berries  from  this 
'ere  wilderness,  as  you  call  it.  Give  Merton  a  pair  of  old 
gloves,  and  he  can  da  most  of  the  job.  Every  tip  that's  fast 
in  the  ground  is  a  new  plant.  If  you  want  to  set  out  another 
patch,  I'll  show  you  how  later  on." 

"I  think  I  know  pretty  nearly  how  to  do  that." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  Books  are  a  help,  I  s'pose,  but  after 
you've  seen  one  plant  set  out  right,  you'll  know  more  than 
if  you'd  'a'  read  a  month." 

"Well,  now  that  you're  here,  Mr.  Jones,  I'm  going  to 
make  the  most  of  you.  How  about  those  other  raspberries 
off  to  the  southeast  of  the  house?" 

"Those  are  red  ones.     Let's  take  a  look  at  'em." 

Having  reached  the  patch,  we  found  almost  as  bad  a 
tangle  as  in  the  blackcap  patch,  except  that  the  canes  were 
more  upright  in  their  growth  and  less  full  of  spines  or 
briers. 


RASPBERRY  LESSONS  97 

*^It^s  plain  enough,"  continued  Mr.  Jones,  ^^that  old 
man  Jamison  was  too  poorly  to  take  much  care  of  things 
last  year.  You  see,  these  red  raspberries  grow  different 
from  those  black  ones  yonder.  Those  increase  by  the  tips 
of  the  branches  takin'  root;  these  by  suckers.  All  these 
young  shoots  comin'  up  between  the  rows  are  suckers,  and 
they  ought  to  be  dug  out.  As  I  said  before,  you  can  set 
them  out  somewhere  else  if  you  want  to.  Dig  'em  up,  you 
know ;  make  a  trench  in  some  out-of-the-way  place,  and  bury 
the  roots  till  you  want  'em.  Like  enough  the  neighbors  will 
buy  some  if  they  know  you  have  'em  to  spare.  Only  be 
sure  to  cut  these  long  canes  back  to  within  six  inches  of  the 
ground." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "that's  all  just  as  I  have  read  in  the  books," 

"So  much  the  better  for  the  books,  then.  I  haven't 
lived  in  this  f ruit-growinr'  region  all  my  life  without  gettin' 
some  ideas  as  to  what's  what.  I  give  my  mind  to  farmin'; 
but  Jamison  and  I  were  great  cronies,  and  I  used  to  be  over 
here  every  day  or  two,  and  so  it's  natural  to  keep  comin'." 

"That's  my  good  Inck." 

"Well,  p'raps  it'll  turn  out  so.  J^ow  Merton's  just  the 
right  age  to  help  you  in  all  this  work.  Jamison,  you  see, 
grew  these  raspberries  in  a  continuous  bushy  row;  that  is, 
say,  three  good  strong  canes  every  eighteen  inches  apart 
in  the  row,  and  the  rows  five  feet  apart,  so  he  could  run  a 
horse-cultivator  between.     Are  you  catchin'  on,  Merton?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  with  much  interest. 

"Well,  all  these  suckers  and  extra  plants  that  are  swamp- 
in'  the  ground  are  just  as  bad  as  weeds.  Dig  'em  all  out, 
only  don't  disturb  the  roots  of  the  bearin'  canes  you  leave  in 
the  rows  much." 

"How  about  trimming  these  ?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  that  depends.  If  you  want  early  fruit,  you'll 
let  'em  stand  as  they  be ;  if  you  want  big  berries,  you'll  cut 
'em  back  one-third.  Let  me  see.  Here's  five  rows  of  High- 
land Hardy;  miserable  poor-tastin'  kind;  but  they  come  so 
early  that  they  often  pay  the  best.     Let  them  stand  with 


98  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

their  whole  length  of  cane,,  and  if  you  can  scatter  a  good 
top-dressin'  of  fine  manure  scraped  up  from  the  barnyard, 
you'll  make  the  berries  larger.  Those  other  rows  of  Cuth- 
bert,  Keliance,  and  Turner,  cut  back  the  canes  one-third, 
and  you'll  get  a  great  deal  more  fruit  than  if  you  left  more 
wood  on  'em.  Cuttin'  back'll  make  the  berries  big;  and  so 
they'll  bring  as  much,  p'raps,  as  if  they  were  early." 

^'Well,  Merton,  this  all  accords  with  what  I've  read, 
only  Mr.  Jones  makes  it  much  clearer.  I  think  we  know 
how  to  go  to  work  now,  and  surely  there's  plenty  to  do." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  resumed  Mr.  Jones ;  "and  you'll  soon  find 
the  work  crowdin'  you.  IlQ^ow  come  to  the  big  raspberry 
patch  back  of  the  barn,  the  patch  where  the  canes  are  all  laid 
down,  as  I  told  you.  These  are  Hudson  River  Antwerps. 
Most  people  have  gone  out  of  'em,  but  Jamison  held  on, 
and  he  was  makin'  money  on  'em.  So  may  you.  They 
are  what  we  call  tender,  you  see,  and  in  November  they 
must  be  bent  down  close  to  the  ground  and  covered  with 
earth,  or  else  every  cane  would  be  dead  from  frost  by  spring. 
About  the  first  week  in  April,  if  the  weather's  mild,  you  must 
uncover  'em,  and  tie  'em  to  stakes  durin'  the  month." 

"Now,  Mr.  Jones,  one  other  good  turn  and  we  won't 
bother  you  any  more  to-day.  All  the  front  of  the  house  is 
covered  by  two  big  grape-vines  that  have  not  been  trimmed, 
and  there  are  a  great  many  other  vines  on  the  place.  I've 
read  and  read  on  the  subject,  but  I  declare  I'm  afraid  to 
touch  them." 

"Now,  you're  beyond  my  depth.  I've  got  a  lot  of  vines 
home,  and  I  trim  'em  in  my  rough  way,  but  I  know  I  ain't 
scientific,  and  we  have  pretty  poor,  scraggly  bunches.  They 
taste  just  as  good,  though,  and  I  don't  raise  any  to  sell. 
There's  a  clever  man  down  near  the  landin'  who  has  a  big 
vineyard,  and  he's  trimmed  it  as  your  vines  ought  to  have  been 
long  ago.  I'd  advise  you  to  go  and  see  him,  and  he  can  show 
you  all  the  latest  wrinkles  in  prunin'.  Now,  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  come  for,  in  the  first  place.  You'll  remember  that  I 
said  there'd  be  a  vandoo  to-morrow.     I've  been  over  and 


f 


RASPBERRY  LESSON^  99 

looked  at  the  stock  offered.  There's  a  lot  of  chickens,  as  I 
told  you;  a  likely-looking  cow  with  a  calf  at  her  side;  a 
fairish  and  quiet  old  horse  that  ought  to  go  cheap,  but  he'd 
answer  well  the  first  year.  Do  you  think  you'll  get  more'n 
one  horse  to  start  with  ?" 

"No;  you  said  I  could  hire  such  heavy  plowing  as  was 
needed  at  a  moderate  sum,  and  I  think  we  can  get  along  with 
one  horse  for  a  time.  My  plan  is  to  go  slow,  and,  I  hope, 
sure." 

"That's  the  best  way,  only  it  ain't  common.  I'll  be 
around  in  the  mornin'  for  you  and  such  of  the  children  as 
you'll  take." 

"On  one  condition,  Mr.  Jones.  You  must  let  me  pay 
you  for  your  time  and  trouble.  Unless  you'll  do  this  in 
giving  me  my  start,  I'll  have  to  paddle  my  own  canoe,  even 
if  I  sink  it," 

"Oh,  I've  no  grudge  against  an  honest  penny  turned 
in  any  way  that  comes  handy.  You  and  I  can  keep  square 
as  we  go  along.  You  can  give  me  what  you  think  is  right, 
and  if  I  ain't  satisfied,  I'll  say  so." 

I  soon  learned  that  my  neighbor  had  no  foolish  sensitive- 
ness. I  could  pay  him  what  I  thought  the  value  of  his  ser- 
vices, and  he  pocketed  the  money  without  a  word.  Of 
course,  I  could  not  pay  him  what  his  advice  was  really  worth, 
for  his  hard  common-sense  stood  me  in  good  stead  in  many 
wavs. 


100  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEK  XXI 

THE 

THE  next  morning  at  about  eight  o'clock  Mr.  Jones 
arrived  in  a  long  farm-wagon  on  springs,  with  one 
seat  in  it;  but  Junior  had  half  filled  its  body  with 
straw,  and  he  said  to  Merton,  "I  thought  that  p'raps,  if  you 
and  the  children  could  go,  you'd  like  a  straw-ride." 

.  The  solemnity  with  which  Winnie  and  Bobsey  promised 
to  obey  orders  gave  some  hope  of  performance;  so  I  tossed 
them  into  the  straw,  and  we  drove  away,  a  merry  party,  leav- 
ing Mousie  consoled  with  the  hope  of  receiving  something 
from  the  vendue. 

^^There's  allers  changes  and  breakin's  up  in  the  spring," 
said  Mr.  Jones,  as  we  drove  along;  ^^and  this  family's  goin' 
out  West.     Everything  is  to  be  sold,  in  doors  and  out." 

The  farmhouse  in  question  was  about  two  miles  away. 
By  the  time  we  arrived,  all  sorts  of  vehicles  were  con- 
verging to  it  on  the  muddy  roads,  for  the  weather  had  be- 
come mild  again.  Stylish-looking  people  drove  up  in  top- 
buggies,  and  there  were  many  heavy,  springless  wagons 
driven  by  rusty-looking  countrymen,  whose  trousers  were 
thrust  into  the  top  of  their  cowhide  boots.  I  strolled  through 
the  house  before  the  sale  began,  thinking  that  I  might  find 
something  there  which  would  please  Mousie  and  my  wife. 
The  rooms  were  already  half  filled  with  the  housewives  from 
the  vicinity;  red-faced  Irish  women,  who  stalked  about  and 
examined  everything  with  great  freedom;  placid,  peach- 
cheeked  dames  in  Quaker  bonnets,  who  softly  cooed  to- 
gether, and  took  every  chance  they  could  to  say  pleasant 


THE       VANDOO''  101 

words  to  the  flurried,  nervous  family  that  was  being  thrust 
out  into  the  world,  as  it  were,  while  still  at  their  own  hearth. 

I  marked  with  my  eye  a  low,  easy  sewing-chair  for  my 
wife,  and  a  rose  geranium,  full  of  bloom,  for  Mousie,  purpos- 
ing to  bid  on  them.  I  also  observed  that  Junior  was  exam- 
ining several  pots  of  flowers  that  stood  in  the  large  south 
window.  Then  giving  Merton  charge  of  the  children,  with 
directions  not  to  lose  sight  of  them  a  moment,  I  went  to 
the  barn-yard  and  stable,  feeling  that  the  day  was  a  critical 
one  in  our  fortunes.  True  enough,  among  the  other  stock 
there  was  a  nice-looking  cow  with  a  calf,  and  Mr.  Jones 
said  she  had  Jersey  blood  in  her  veins.  This  meant  rich, 
creamy  milk.  I  thought  the  animal  had  a  rather  ugly  eye, 
but  this  might  be  caused  by  anxiety  for  her  calf,  with  so 
many  strangers  about.  We  also  examined  the  old  bay  horse 
and  a  market  wagon  and  harness.  Then  Mr.  Jones  and  I 
drew  apart  and  agreed  upon  the  limit  of  his  bids,  for  I 
proposed  to  act  solely  through  him.  Every  one  knew  him 
and  was  aware  that  he  would  not  go  a  cent  beyond  what  a 
thing  was  worth.  He  had  a  word  and  a  jest  for  all,  and 
"How  are  YOU,  JOHN  ?"  greeted  him  wherever  he  went. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  sale  began.  The  auctioneer  was  a 
rustic  humorist,  who  knew  the  practical  value  of  a  joke  in 
his  business.  Aware  of  the  foibles  and  characteristics  of  the 
people  who  flocked  around  and  after  him,  he  provoked  many 
a  ripple  and  roar  of  laughter  by  his  telling  hits  and  droll 
speeches.  I  found  that  my  neighbor,  Mr.  Jones,  came  in  for 
his  full  share,  but  he  always  sent  back  as  good  a-s  he  re- 
ceived. The  sale,  in  fact,  had  the  aspect  of  a  country  merry- 
making, at  which  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  people  met  on 
common  ground,  Pat  bidding  against  the  best  of  the  landed 
gentry,  while  boys  and  dogs  innumerable  played  around  and 
sometimes  verged  on  serious  quarrels. 

Junior,  I  observed,  left  his  mark  before  the  day  was  over. 
He  was  standing,  watching  the  sale  with  his  usual  impassive 
expression,  when  a  big,  hulking  fellow  leered  into  his  face 
and  cried, 


102  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


"Tow-head,  white-head, 
Thick-head,  go  to  bed." 


The  last  word  was  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  before  Junior's 
fist  was  between  his  eyes,  and  down  he  went. 

^'Want  any  more?"  Junior  coolly  asked,  as  the  fellow 
got  up. 

Evidently  he  didn't,  for  he  slunk  off,  followed  by  jeers 
and  laughter. 

At  noon  there  was  an  immense  pot  of  coffee  with  crackers 
and  cheese,  placed  on  a  table  near  the  kitchen  door,  and  we 
had  a  free  lunch.  To  this  Bobsey  paid  his  respects  so  indus- 
triously that  a  great,  gawky  mountaineer  looked  down  at 
him  and  said,  with  a  grin,  '^I  say,  young  'un,  you're  gettin' 
outside  of  more  fodder  than  any  critter  of  your  size  I  ever 
knowed." 

'^'Tain't  your  fodder,"  replied  Bobsey,  who  had  learned, 
in  the  streets,  to  be  a  little  pert. 

The  day  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  the  cow  and  calf, 
the  old  bay  horse,  the  wagon,  and  the  harness  were  mine. 
On  the  whole,  Mr.  Jones  had  bought  them  at  reasonable 
rates.  He  also  bid  in  for  me,  at  one  dollar  per  pair,  two 
cocks  and  twenty  hens  that  looked  fairly  well  in  their  coop. 

For  my  part,  I  had  secured  the  chair  and  blooming  ge- 
ranium. To  my  surprise,  when  the  rest  of  the  flowers  were 
sold.  Junior  took  part  in  the  bidding  for  the  first  time,  and, 
as  a  result,  carried  out  to  the  wagon  several  other  pots  of 
house-plants. 

"Why,  Junior,"  I  said,  "I  didn't  know  you  had  such  an 
eye  for  beauty." 

He  blushed,  but  made  no  reply. 

The  chickens  and  the  harness  were  put  into  Mr.  Jones's 
conveyance,  the  wagon  I  had  bought  was  tied  on  behind, 
and  we  jogged  homeward,  the  children  exulting  over  our 
new  possessions.  When  I  took  in  the  geranium  bush  and 
put  it  on  the  table  by  the  sunny  kitchen  window,  Junior 
followed  with  an  armful  of  his  plants. 


THE   ^^VANDOO"*  103 

"They're  for  Mousie,"  he  said;  and  before  the  delighted 
child  could  thank  him,  he  darted  out. 

Indeed,  it  soon  became  evident  that  Mousie  was  Junior's 
favorite.  She  never  said  much  to  him,  but  she  looked  a 
great  deal.  To  the  little  invalid  girl  he  seemed  the  em- 
bodiment of  strength  and  cleverness,  and,  perhaps  because 
he  was  so  strong,  his  sympathies  went  out  toward  the  feeble 
child. 

The  coop  of  chickens  was  carried  to  the  basement  that 
we  had  made  ready,  and  Winnie  declared  that  she  meant 
to  "hear  the  first  crow  and  get  the  first  Qgg.^^ 

The  next  day  the  horse  and  the  cow  and  calf  were 
brought  over,  and  we  felt  that  we  were  fairly  launched  in 
our  country  life. 

"You  have  a  bigger  family  to  look  after  outdoors  than 
I  have  indoors,"  my  wife  said,  laughingly. 

I  was  not  long  in  learning  that  some  of  my  outdoor 
family  were  anything  but  amiable.  The  two  cocks  fought 
and  fought  until  Junior,  who  had  run  over  before  night, 
showed  Merton  that  by  ducking  their  heads  in  cold  water 
their  belligerent  spirit  could  be  partially  quenched.  Then 
he  proceeded  to  give  me  a  lesson  in  milking.  The  calf  was 
shut  up  away  from  the  cow,  which  was  driven  into  a  corner, 
where  she  stood  with  signs  of  impatience  while  Junior,  seated 
on  a  three-legged  stool,  essayed  to  obtain  the  nectar  we  all 
so  dearly  loved.     At  first  he  did  not  succeed  very  well. 

"She  won't  let  it  down — she's  keepin'  it  for  the  calf," 
said  the  boy.  But  at  last  she  relented,  and  the  white  streams 
flowed.  "Now,"  said  Junior  to  me,  "you  see  how  I  do  it. 
You  try." 

As  I  took  his  place,  I  noticed  that  Brindle  turned  on 

me  a  vicious  look.     No  doubt  I  was  awkward  and  hurt  her 

a  little,  also ;  for  the  first  thing  I  knew  the  pail  was  in  the  air, 

I   on  my  back,   and   Brindle   bellowing   around   the  yard, 

switching  her  tail.  Junior  and  Merton  meanwhile  roaring 

with   laughter.     I   got  up  in  no   amiable  mood  and  said, 

roughly,  to  the  boys,  "Quit  that  nonsense." 

Roe — ^IX — X 


104  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

But  they  couldn't  obey,  and  at  last  I  had  to  join  in  the 
laugh. 

"Why,  she's  ugly  as  sin,"  said  Junior.  "I'll  tell  you 
what  to  do.  Let  her  go  with  her  calf  now,  and  in  the 
morning  we'll  drive  her  down  to  one  of  the  stalls  in  the 
basement  of  the  barn  and  fasten  her  by  the  head.  Then 
we  can  milk  her  without  risk.  After  her  calf  is  gone  she'll 
be  a  great  deal  tamer." 

This  plan  was  carried  out,  and  it  worked  pretty  well, 
although  it  was  evident  that,  from  some  cause,  the  cow  was 
wild  and  vicious.  One  of  my  theories  is,  that  all  animals 
can  be  subdued  by  kindness.  Mr.  Jones  advised  me  to 
dispose  of  Brindle,  but  I  determined  to  test  my  theory  first. 
Several  times  a  day  I  would  go  to  the  barn-yard  and  give 
her  a  carrot  or  a  whisp  of  hay  from  my  hand,  and  she 
gradually  became  accustomed  to  me,  and  would  come  at  my 
call.  A  week  later  I  sold  her  calf  to  a  butcher,  and  for  a 
few  days  she  lowed  and  mourned  deeply,  to  Mousie's  great 
distress.  But  carrots  consoled  her,  and  within  three  weeks 
she  would  let  me  stroke  her,  and  both  Merton  and  I  could 
milk  her  without  trouble.  I  believe  she  had  been  treated 
harshly  by  her  former  owners. 


EARLY   APRIL    OABDENINQ  106 


CHAPTEK  XXn 

EARLY   APRIL  GARDENING 

SPKIE'G  wag  coming  on  apace,  and  we  all  made  the 
most  of  every  pleasant  hour.  The  second  day  after 
Ibhe  auction  proved  a  fine  one;  and  leaving  Winnie 
and  Merton  in  charge  of  the  house,  I  took  my  wife,  with 
Bobsey  and  Mousie,  who  was  well  bundled  up,  to  see  the 
scientific  grape-grower,  and  to  do  some  shopping.  At  the 
same  time  we  assured  ourselves  that  we  were  having  a 
pleasure-drive;  and  it  did  me  good  to  see  how  the  mother  and 
daughter,  who  had  been  kept  indoors  so  long,  enjoyed  them- 
selves. Mr.  Jones  was  right.  I  received  better  and  clearer 
ideas  of  vine-pruning  in  half  an  hour  from  studying  work 
that  had  been  properly  done,  and  by  asking  questions  of  a 
practical  man,  than  I  could  ever  have  obtained  by  reading. 
We  found  that  the  old  bay  horse  jogged  along,  at  as  good 
a  gait  as  we  could  expect,  over  the  muddy  road,  and  I  was 
satisfied  that  he  was  quiet  enough  for  my  wife  to  drive  him 
after  she  had  learned  how,  and  gained  a  little  confidence. 
She  held  the  reins  as  we  drove  home,  and,  in  our  own  yard, 
I  gave  her  some  lessons  in  turning  around,  backing,  etc. 

"Some  day,"  I  said,  "you  shall  have  a  carriage  and  a  gay 
young  horse." 

When  we  sat  down  to  supper,  I  was  glad  to  see  that  a 
little  color  was  dawning  in  Mousie's  face. 

The  bundles  we  brought  home  supplemented  our  stores 
of  needful  articles,  and  our  life  began  to  take  on  a  regular 
routine.     The  carpenter  came  and  put  up  the  shelves,  and 


106  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

made  such  changes  as  my  wife  desired;  then  he  aided  me 
in  repairing  the  out-buildings.  I  finished  pruning  the  trees, 
while  Merton  worked  manfully  at  the  raspberries,  for  we  saw 
that  this  was  a  far  more  pressing  task  than  gathering  wood, 
which  could  be  done  to  better  advantage  in  the  late  autumn. 
Every  morning  Winnie  and  Bobsey  were  kept  steadily  busy 
in  carrying  our  trimmings  to  the  brush  heap,  which  now 
began  to  assume  vast  proportions,  especially  as  the  refuse 
from  the  grape-vine  and  raspberry  bushes  was  added  to  it. 
As  the  ground  became  settled  after  the  frost  was  out,  I  began 
to  set  the  stakes  by  the  side  of  such  raspberry  canes  as 
needed  tying  up ;  and  here  was  a  new  light  task  for  the  two 
younger  children.  Bobsey's  little  arms  could  go  around 
the  canes  and  hold  them  close  to  the  stake,  while  Winnie, 
a  sturdy  child,  quickly  tied  them  with  a  coarse,  cheap  string 
that  I  had  bought  for  the  purpose.  Even  my  wife  came  out 
occasionally  and  helped  us  at  this  work.  By  the  end  of 
the  last  week  in  March  I  had  all  the  fruit-trees  fairly  pruned 
and  the  grape-vines  trimmed  and  tied  up,  and  had  given 
Merton  much  help  among  the  raspberries.  In  shallow  boxes 
of  earth  on  the  kitchen  table,  cabbage,  lettuce,  and  tomato 
•eeds  were  sprouting  beside  Mousie^s  plants.  The  little  girl 
hailed  with  delight  every  yellowish  green  germ  that  ap- 
peared above  the  soil. 

The  hens  had  spent  their  first  few  days  in  inspecting 
their  quarters  and  becoming  familiar  with  them;  but  one 
morning  there  was  a  noisy  cackle,  and  Winnie  soon  came 
rushing  in  with  three  fresh-laid  eggs.  A  week  later  we  had 
all  we  could  use,  and  my  wife  began  to  put  some  by  for  the 
first  brooding  biddies  to  sit  upon. 

The  first  day  of  April  promised  to  be  unusually  dry  and 
warm,  and  I  said  at  the  breakfast  table :  "This  is  to  be  a  great 
day.  We^ll  prove  that  we  are  not  April-fools  by  beginning 
our  garden.  I  was  satisfied  yesterday  that  a  certain  warm 
slope  was  dry  enough  to  dig  and  plant  with  hardy  vegetables, 
and  IVe  read  and  studied  over  and  over  again  which  to 
plant  first,  and  how  to  plant  them.     I  suppose  I  shall  make 


EARLY  APRIL    GARDENING  107 

mistakes,  but  I  wish  you  all  to  see  how  I  do  it,  and  then 
by  next  spring  we  shall  have  learned  from  experience  how  to 
do  better.  'No  doubt,  some  things  might  have  been  planted 
before,  but  we've  all  been  too  busy.  Now,  Merton,  you  go 
and  harness  old  Bay  to  the  cart  I  bought  with  the  place, 
and  I'll  get  out  my  treasure  of  seeds.  Mousie,  by  ten 
o'clock,  if  the  sun  keeps  out  of  the  clouds,  you  can  put  on 
your  rubbers  and  join  us." 

Soon  all  was  bustle  and  excitement.  Among  my  seeds 
were  two  quarts  of  red  and  two  of  white  onion  sets,  or  little 
bits  of  onions,  which  I  had  kept  in  a  cool  place,  so  that  they 
should  not  sprout  before  their  time.  These  I  took  out  first. 
Then  with  Merton  I  went  to  the  barn-yard  and  loaded  up 
the  cart  with  the  finest  and  most  decayed  manure  we  could 
find,  and  this  was  dumped  on  the  highest  part  of  the  slope 
that  I  meant  to  plant. 

"ISfow,  Merton,  I  guess  you  can  get  another  load,  while 
I  spread  this  heap  and  begin  to  dig;"  and  he  went  off  with 
the  horse  and  cart,  having  an  increased  idea  of  his  impor- 
tance. I  marked  a  long  strip  of  the  sunny  slope,  fifteen  feet 
wide,  and  spread  the  manure  evenly  and  thickly,  for  I  had 
read,  and  my  own  sense  confirmed  the  view,  that  a  little 
ground  well  enriched  would  yield  more  than  a  good  deal  of 
poor  land.  I  then  dug  till  my  back  ached ;  and  I  found  that 
it  began  to  ache  pretty  soon,  for  I  was  not  accustomed  to 
such  toil. 

^'After  the  first  seeds  are  in,"  I  muttered,  "I'll  have  the 
rest  of  the  garden  plowed." 

When  I  had  dug  down  about  four  feet  of  the  strip,  I  con- 
cluded to  rest  myself  by  a  change  of  labor ;  so  I  took  the  rake 
and  smoothed  off  the  ground,  stretched  a  garden  line  across 
it,  and,  with  a  sharp-pointed  hoe,  made  a  shallow  trench, 
or  drill. 

"Now,  Winnie  and  Bobsey,"  I  said,  "it  is  time  for  you  to 
do  your  part.  Just  stick  these  little  onions  in  the  trench 
about  four  inches  apart;"  and  I  gave  each  of  them  a  little 
stick  of  the  right  length  to  measure  the  distance;  for  they 


108  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

had  vague  ideas  of  four  inches.  ^^Be  sure/'  I  continued, 
"that  you  get  the  bottom  of  the  onion  down.  This  is  the 
top,  and  this  is  the  bottom.  Press  the  onion  in  the  soil  just 
enough  to  make  it  stand  firm,  so.  That's  right.  Oh,  you're 
learning  fast.  Now  I  can  rest,  you  see,  while  you  do  the 
planting." 

In  a  few  moments  they  had  stuck  the  fifteen  feet  of 
shallow  trench,  or  drill,  full  of  onions,  which  I  covered  with 
earth,  packing  it  lightly  with  my  hoe.  I  then  moved  the 
line  fourteen  inches  further  down  and  made  another  shallow 
drill.  In  this  way  we  soon  had  all  the  onion  sets  in  the 
ground.  Merton  came  back  with  his  load  in  time  to  see 
how  it  was  done,  and  nodded  his  head  approvingly.  I  now 
felt  rested  enough  to  dig  awhile,  and  Merton  started  off  to 
the  barn-yard  again.  We  next  sowed,  in  even  shallower 
drills,  the  little  onion  seed  that  looked  like  gunpowder, 
for  my  garden  book  said  that  the  earlier  this  was  planted  the 
better.  We  had  completed  only  a  few  rows  when  Mr.  Jones 
appeared,  and  said :  "Plantin'  onions  here  ?  Why,  neighbor, 
this  ground  is  too  dry  and  light  for  onions." 

"Is  it?  Well,  I  knew  I'd  make  mistakes.  I  haven't 
used  near  all  my  onion  seed  yet,  however." 

"Oh,  well,  no  great  harm's  done.  You've  made  the 
ground  rich,  and,  if  we  have  a  moist  season,  like  enough 
they'll  do  well.  P'raps  it's  the  best  thing,  after  all,  'spe- 
cially if  you've  put  in  the  seed  thick,  as  most  people  do.  Let 
'em  all  grow,  and  you'll  have  a  lot  of  little  onions,  or  sets, 
of  your  own  raisin'  to  plant  early  next  spring.  Save  the 
rest  of  your  seed  until  you  have  some  rich,  strong,  deep  soil 
ready.  I  came  over  to  say  that  if  this  weather  holds  a  day 
or  two  longer  I'll  plow  the  garden;  and  I  thought  I'd  tell 
you,  so  that  you  might  get  ready  for  me.  The  sooner  you 
get  your  early  pertaters  in  the  better." 

"Your  words  almost  take  the  ache  out  of  my  back,"  I 
said.  "I  fear  we  shouldn't  have  much  of  a  garden  if  I  had 
to  dig  it  all,  but  I  thought  I'd  make  a  beginning  with  a  few 
early  vegetables." 


EARLY    APRIL    GARDENING  109 

"That's  well  enough,  but  a  plow  beats  a  fork  all  hollow. 
You'll  know  what  I  mean  when  you  see  my  plow  going  down 
to  the  beam  and  loosenin'  the  ground  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
inches.  So  burn  your  big  brush-pile,  and  get  out  what 
manure  you're  goin'  to  put  in  the  garden,  and  I'll  be  ready 
when  you  are." 

"All  right.  Thank  you.  I'll  just  plant  some  radishes, 
peas,  and  beans." 

"iifot  beans  yet,  Mr.  Durham.  Don't  put  those  in  till 
the  last  of  the  month,  and  plant  them  very  shallow  when 
you  do." 

"How  one  forgets  when  there's  not  much  experience 
to  fall  back  upon !  I  now  remember  that  my  book  said  that 
beans,  in  this  latitude,  should  not  be  planted  until  about  the 
1st  of  May." 

"And  lima  beans  not  till  the  10th  of  May,"  added  Mr. 
Jones.  "You  might  put  in  a  few  early  beets  here,  although 
the  ground  is  rather  light  for  'em.  You  could  put  your  main 
crop  somewhere  else.  Well,  let  me  know  when  you're  ready. 
Junior  and  me  are  drivin'  things,  too,  this  mornin';"  and 
he  stalked  away,  whistling  a  hymn-tune  in  rather  lively 
time. 

I  said :  "Youngsters,  I  think  I'll  get  my  garden  book  and 
be  sure  I'm  right  about  sowing  the  radish  and  beet  seed  and 
the  peas.     Mr.  Jones  has  rather  shaken  my  confidence." 

When  Merton  came  with  the  next  load  I  told  him  that 
he  could  put  the  horse  in  the  stable  and  help  us.  As  a  re- 
sult, we  soon  had  several  rows  of  radishes  and  beets  sown, 
fourteen  inches  apart.  We  planted  the  seed  only  an  inch 
deep,  and  packed  the  ground  lightly  over  it.  Mousie,  to 
her  great  delight,  was  allowed  to  drop  a  few  of  the  seeds. 
Merton  was  ambitious  to  take  the  fork,  but  I  soon  stopped 
him,  and  said :  "Digging  is  too  heavy  work  for  you,  my  boy. 
There  is  enough  that  you  can  do  without  overtaxing  yourself. 
We  must  all  act  like  good  soldiers.  The  campaign  of  work 
is  just  opening,  and  it  would  be  very  foolish  for  any  of  us 
to  disable  ourselves  at  the  start.  We'll  plant  only  half  a  dozen 


110  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

rows  of  these  dwarf  peas  this  morning,  and  then  this  after- 
noon we'll  have  the  bonfire  and  get  ready  for  Mr.  Jones's 
plow." 

At  the  prospect  of  the  bonfire  the  younger  children  set 
up  shouts  of  exultation,  which  cheered  me  on  as  I  turned 
over  the  soil  with  the  fork,  although  often  stopping  to  rest. 
My  back  ached,  but  my  heart  was  light.  In  my  daily  work 
now  I  had  all  my  children  about  me,  and  their  smaller  hands 
were  helping  in  the  most  practical  way.  Their  voices  were 
as  joyous  as  the  notes  of  the  robins,  song-sparrows,  and  blue- 
birds that  were  singing  all  about  us.  A  soft  haze  half  ob- 
scured the  mountains,  and  mellowed  the  sunshine.  From 
the  springing  grass  and  fresh-turned  soil  came  odors  sweet 
as  those  which  made  Eden  fragrant  after  ^^a  mist  went  up 
from  the  earth  and  watered  the  whole  face  of  the  ground.'' 

All  the  children  helped  to  plant  the  peas,  which  we 
placed  carefully  and  evenly,  an  inch  apart,  in  the  row,  and 
covered  with  two  inches  of  soil,  the  rows  being  two  feet 
distant  one  from  another.  I  had  decided  to  plant  chiefly 
McLean's  Little  Gem,  because  they  needed  no  stakes  or  brush 
for  support.  We  were  almost  through  our  task  when,  hap- 
pening to  look  toward  the  house,  I  saw  my  wife  standing  in 
the  doorway,  a  framed  picture. 

'^Dinner,"  she  called,  in  a  voice  as  sweet  to  me  as  that  of 
the  robin  singing  in  the  cherry-tree  over  her  head. 

The  children  stampeded  for  the  house,  Winnie  crying: 
*^Hurry  up,  mamma,  for  right  after  dinner  papa  will  set  the 
great  brush-pile  on  fire,  and  we're  going  to  dance  round  it 
like  Indians.     You  must  come  out,  too." 


A    BONFIRE    AND    A    FEAST  111 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A   BONFIRE   AND   A    FEAST 

IT  amused  and  interested  me  to  see  upon  the  children's 
faces  such  an  eager  expectancy  as  they  hurried  through 
our  midday  meal.  E'othing  greater  than  a  bonfire  was 
in  prospect,  yet  few  costly  pleasures  could  have  afforded  them 
such  excitement.  I  found  myself  sharing  in  their  anticipa- 
tion to  a  degree  that  surprised  me,  and  was  led  to  ask  myself 
why  it  is  that  outdoor  pursuits  often  take  so  strong  a  hold 
upon  the  fancy.  I  recalled  traits  shown  by  one  of  my  former 
employers.  He  was  a  gray-headed  man,  possessing  great 
wealth  and  an  elegant  city  home,  while  his  mind  was  occupied 
by  a  vast  and  complicated  business.  When  he  learned  that 
I  was  going  to  the  country,  he  would  often  come  to  me, 
and,  with  kindling  eyes  and  animated  tones,  talk  of  his  chick- 
ens, cows,  fruit-trees  and  crops.  He  proved  that  the  best 
product  of  his  farm  was  the  zest  it  brought  him  into  his  life — 
a  zest  that  was  failing  in  his  other  occupations  and  interests. 
What  was  true  of  him  I  knew  to  be  equally  so  of  many  others 
to  whom  wealth  brings  no  greater  luxury  than  the  ability 
to  indulge  in  expensive  farming.  A  lifetime  in  the  city 
does  not  destroy  the  primal  instinct  which  leads  men  to  the 
soil  nor  does  a  handsome  dividend  from  stocks  give  the  un- 
alloyed pleasure  awakened  by  a  basket  of  fresh  eggs  or  fruit. 
This  love  of  the  earth  is  not  earthiness,  but  has  been  the  char- 
acteristic of  the  best  and  greatest  minds.  Washington 
would  turn  from  the  anxieties  of  a  campaign  and  the  burdens 
of  state  to  read,  with  absorbing  interest,  the  reports  of  the 


112  DRIVEN    BACK    TO   EDEN 

agent  who  managed  his  plantation,  and  to  write  out  the 
minutest  details  for  the  overseer's  guidance. 

In  mj  limited  way  and  sphere  I  was  under  the  influence 
of  the  same  impulses;  and,  as  I  looked  around  the  table  at 
those  so  dear  to  me,  I  felt  that  I  had  far  more  at  stake.  I 
had  not  come  back  to  Nature  merely  to  amuse  myself  or  to 
gratify  a  taste,  but  to  co-work  with  her  in  fulfilling  the  most 
sacred  duties.  With  the  crops  of  the  coming  years  these 
children  must  be  nourished  and  fitted  for  their  part  in  life, 
and  I  felt  that  all  my  faculties  must  be  employed  to  produce 
the  best  results  from  my  open-air  toil. 

Therefore,  why  should  not  I  also  be  interested  in  the 
prospective  bonfire?  It  would  transmute  the  unsightly 
rubbish  of  the  place  into  fertilizing  ashes,  and  clear  the 
ground  for  the  plow.  The  mellow  soil  would  produce  that 
which  would  give  brain  and  muscle — life  to  those  whose 
lives  were  dear. 

He  who  spreads  his  table  with  food  secured  by  his  own 
hands  direct  from  nature  should  feel  a  strong  incentive  to 
do  his  best.  The  coarse,  unvaried  diet,  common  to  many 
farmers'  homes,  is  the  result  of  stolid  minds  and  plodding 
ways.  A  better  manhood  and  womanhood  will  be  devel- 
pped  when  we  act  upon  the  truth  that  varied  and  healthful 
sustenance  improves  blood  and  brain,  and  therefore  char- 
acter. 

I  was  growing  abstracted,  when  my  wife  remarked, 
^ ^Robert,  will  you  deign  to  come  back  from  a  remote  region 
of  thought  and  take  some  rice  pudding  ?" 

"You  may  all  fare  the  better  for  my  thoughts,"  I  replied. 

The  children,  however,  were  bolting  their  pudding  at 
railroad  speed,  and  I  perceived  that  the  time  demanded  ac- 
tion. Winnie  and  Bobsey  wished  me  to  light  the  fire  at 
once,  but  I  said :  "Ko,  not  till  mamma  and  Mousie  are  ready  to 
come  out.  You  must  stay  and  help  them  clear  away  the 
things.     When  all  is  ready,  you  two  shall  start  the  blaze." 

Very  soon  we  were  all  at  the  brush-pile,  which  towered 
above  our  heads,  and  I  said :  "Merton,  it  will  burn  better  if 


A   BONFIRE    AND    A    FEAST  113 

♦ 
we  climb  over  it  and    trample  it  down  a  little.     It  is  too 
loose  now.     While  we  do  this,  Winnie  and  Bobsej  can  gather 
dry   grass   and   weeds   that   will   take   fire   quickly.     Kow 
which  way  is  the  wind?'' 

"There  isn't  any  wind,  papa,"  Merton  replied. 

"Let  us  see.  Put  your  forefingers  in  your  mouths,  all 
of  you,  then  hold  them  up  and  note  which  side  feels  the 
coolest." 

"This  side  I"  cried  one  and  another. 

"Yes;  and  this  side  is  toward  the  west;  therefore,  Win- 
nie, put  the  dry  grass  here  on  the  western  side  of  the  heap, 
and  what  air  is  stirring  will  carry  the  blaze  through  the 
pile." 

Little  hands  that  trembled  with  eagerness  soon  held 
lighted  matches  to  the  dry  grass;  there  was  a  yellow  flicker 
in  the  sunshine,  then  a  blaze,  a  crackle,  a  devouring  rush 
of  flames  that  mounted  higher  and  higher  until,  with  the  sur- 
rounding column  of  smoke,  there  was  a  conflagration  which, 
at  night,  would  have  alarmed  the  country-side.  The  chil- 
dren at  first  gazed  with  awe  upon  the  scenes  as  they  backed 
farther  away  from  the  increasing  heat.  Our  beacon-fire 
drew  Junior,  who  came  bounding  over  the  fences  toward 
us;  and  soon  he  and  Merton  began  to  see  how  near  they 
could  dash  in  toward  the  blaze  without  being  scorched.  I 
soon  stopped  this. 

"Show  your  courage,  Merton,  when  there  is  need  of  it," 
I  said.  "Kash  venturing  is  not  bravery,  but  foolishness, 
and  often  costs  people  dear." 

When  the  pile  sank  down  into  glowing  embers,  I  turned 
to  Bobsey,  and  added :  "I  have  let  you  light  a  fire  under  my 
direction.  Never  think  of  doing  anything  of  the  kind  with- 
out my  permission,  for  if  you  do,  you  will  certainly  sit  in  a 
chair,  facing  the  wall,  all  day  long,  with  nothing  to  cheer 
you  but  bread  and  water  and  a  sound  whipping.  There  is 
one  thing  which  you  children  must  learn  from  the  start, 
and  that  is,  you  can't  play  with  fire  except  under  my  eyes." 

At  this  direful  threat  Bobsey  looked  as  grave  as  his 


114  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

round  little  face  permitted,  and,  with  the  memory  of  his 
peril  in  the  creek  fresh  in  mind,  was  ready  enough  with  the 
most  solemn  promises.  A  circle  of  unburned  brush  was 
left  around  the  embers.  This  I  raked  in  on  the  hot  coals, 
and  soon  all  was  consumed. 

"Kow  I  have  a  suggestion,"  cried  my  wife.  "We'll  have 
some  roast  potatoes,  for  here  are  lots  of  hot  coals  and  ashes." 
Away  scampered  Winnie  to  the  cellar  for  the  tubers.  Our 
bonfire  ended  in  a  feast,  and  then  the  ashes  were  spread  far 
and  wide.  When  the  exciting  events  were  past,  Winnie 
and  Bobsey  amused  themselves  in  other  ways,  Mousie  ventur- 
ing to  stay  with  them  while  the  sun  remained  high.  Merton 
and  I  meanwhile  put  the  horse  to  the  cart  and  covered  all 
the  ground,  especially  the  upper  and  poorer  portions,  with 
a  good  dressing  from  the  barnyard. 

In  the  evening  Junior  gave  Merton  a  good  hint  about 
angle- worms.  "Follow  the  plow,"  he  said,  "and  pick  'em 
up  and  put  'em  in  a  tight  box.  Then  sink  the  box  in  a  damp 
place  and  nearly  fill  it  with  fine  earth,  and  you  always  have 
bait  ready  when  you  want  to  go  a-fishing.  After  a  few  more 
warm  days  the  fish  will  begin  to  bite  first-rate." 

Early  the  next  morning  Mr.  Jones  was  on  hand  with  his 
stout  team,  and,  going  twice  in  every  furrow,  he  sunk  his 
plow  to  the  beam.  "When  you  loosen  the  soil  deep  in  this 
style,"  he  said,  "ye  needn't  be  afraid  of  dry  weather  unless 
it's  an  amazin'  long  spell.  Why,  bless  you,  Mr.  Durham, 
there's  farmers  around  here  who  don't  scratch  their  ground 
much  deeper  than  an  old  hen  would,  and  they're  always 
groanin'  over  droughts.  If  I  can  get  my  plow  down  eighteen 
inches,  and  then  find  time  to  stir  the  surface  often  in  the 
growin'  season,  I  ain't  afraid  of  a  month  of  dry  weather." 

We  followed  Mr.  Jones  for  a  few  turns  around  the 
garden,  I  inhaling  the  fresh  wholesome  odors  of  the  soil  with 
pleasure,  and  Merton  and  the  two  younger  children  picking 
up  angle-worms. 

Our  neighbor  soon  paused  and  resumed:  "I  guess  I'll 
give  you  a  hint  that'll  add  bushels  of  pertaters  to  yer  crop. 


A    BONFIRE   AND    A    FEAST  115 

After  I've  plowed  the  garden,  I'll  furrow  out  deep  a  lot  of 
rows,  three  feet  apart.  Let  Merton  take  a  hoe  and  scrape  up 
the  fine  old  manure  in  the  barnyard.  Don't  use  any  other 
kind.  Then  sprinkle  it  thickly  in  the  furrows,  and  draw 
your  hoe  through  'em  to  mix  the  fertilizer  well  with  the 
soil.  Drop  your  seed  then,  eight  inches  apart  in  the  row, 
and  cover  with  four  inches  of  dirt.  One  can't  do  this  very 
handy  by  the  acre,  but  I've  known  such  treatment  to  double 
the  crop  and  size  of  the  pertaters  in  a  garden  or  small  patch." 

I  took  the  hint  at  opce,  and  set  Merton  at  work,  saying 
that  Winnie  and  Bobsey  could  gather  all  the  worms  he 
wanted.  Then  I  went  for .  a  half -bushel  of  early  potatoes, 
and  Mr.  Jones  showed  me  how  to  cut  them  so  as  to  leave  at 
least  two  good  "eyes"  to  each  piece.  Half  an  hour  later 
it  occurred  to  me  to  see  how  Merton  was  getting  on.  I 
found  him  perspiring,  and  almost  panting  with  fatigue,  and 
my  conscience  smote  me.  "There,  my  boy,"  I  said,  "this  is 
too  hard  work  for  you.  Come  with  me  and  I'll  show  you 
how  to  cut  the  potatoes.  But  first  go  into  the  house,  and  cool 
off  while  you  drink  a  glass  of  milk." 

"Well,  papa,"  he  replied,  gratefully,  "I  wouldn't  mind 
a  change  like  that.  I  didn't  want  you  to  think  I  was  shirk- 
ing, but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  getting  played  out." 

"Worked  out,  you  mean.  It's  not  my  wish  that  you 
should  ever  be  either  played  or  worked  out,  nor  will  you 
if  you  take  play  and  work  in  the  right  degree.  Remember," 
I  added,  seriously,  "that  you  are  a  growing  boy,  and  it's  not 
my  intention  to  put  you  at  anything  beyond  your  strength. 
If,  in  my  inexperience,  I  do  give  you  too  hard  work,  tell 
me  at  once.     There's  plenty  to  do  that  won't  overtax  you." 

So  we  exchanged  labors,  and  by  the  time  the  garden  was 
plowed  and  the  furrows  were  made  I  had  scraped  up  enough 
fine  material  in  the  barnyard  to  give  my  tubers  a  great 
start.  I  varied  my  labor  with  lessons  in  plo^ving,  for  run- 
ning in  my  head  was  an  "old  saw"  to  the  effect  that  "he  who 
would  thrive  must  both  hold  the  plow  and  drive." 

The   fine   weather   lasted  long  enough  for  us  to  plant 


116  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

our  early  potatoes  in  the  most  approved  fashion,  and  then 
came  a  series  of  cold,  wet  days  and  frosty  -  nights.  Mr. 
Jones  assured  us  that  the  vegetable  seeds  already  in  the 
ground  would  receive  no  harm.  At  such  times  as  were  suit- 
able for  work  we  finished  trimming  and  tying  up  the 
hardy  raspberries,  cleaning  up  the  barnyard,  and  carting  all 
the  fertilizers  we  could  find  to  the  land  that  we  meant  to  cul- 
tivate. 


*'N0   BLIND   DRIFTING"  117 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


OKE  long,  stormy  day  I  prepared  an  account-book. 
On  its  left-hand  pages  I  entered  the  cost  of  the 
place  and  all  expenses  thus  far  incurred.  The 
right-hand  pages  were  for  records  of  income,  as  yet  small 
indeed.  They  consisted  only  of  the  proceeds  from  the  sale 
of  the  calf,  the  eggs  that  Winnie  gathered,  and  the  milk 
measured  each  day,  all  valued  at  the  market  price.  I  was 
resolved  that  there  should  be  no  blind  drifting  toward  the 
breakers  of  failure — that  at  the  end  of  the  year  we  should 
know  whether  we  had  made  progress,  stood  still,  or  gone 
backward.  My  system  of  keeping  the  accounts  was  so  simple 
that  I  easily  explained  it  to  my  wife,  Merton,  and  Mousie, 
for  I  believed  that,  if  they  followed  the  effort  at  country  liv- 
ing understandingly,  they  would  be  more  willing  to  practice 
the  self-denial  necessary  for  success.  Indeed,  I  had  Merton 
write  out  most  of  the  items,  even  though  the  record,  as  a  re- 
sult, was  not  very  neat.  I  stopped  his  worrying  over  blots 
and  errors,  by  saying,  "You  are  of  more  account  than  the 
account-book,  and  will  learn  by  practice  to  be  as  accurate  as 
any  one." 

My  wife  and  Mousie  also  started  another  book  of  house- 
hold expenses,  that  we  might  always  know  just  where  we 
stood  and  what  our  prospects  were. 

Weeks  would  elapse  before  our  place  would  be  food- 
producing  to  any  great  extent.  In  the  meantime  we  must 
draw  chiefly  on  our  capital  in  order  to  live.  Winifred  ftnd 
I  resolved  to  meet  this  necessity  in  no  careless  way,  feeling 


118  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

that  not  a  penny  should  be  spent  which  might  be  saved. 
The  fact  that  I  had  only  my  family  to  support  was  greatly 
in  our  favor.  There  was  no  kitchen  cabinet,  that  ate  much 
and  wasted  more,  to  satisfy.  Therefore,  our  revenue  of 
eggs  and  milk  went  a  long  way  toward  meeting  the  problem. 
We  made  out  a  list  of  cheap,  yet  wholesome,  articles  of  food, 
and  found  that  we  could  buy  oatmeal  at  four  cents  per  pound, 
Indian  meal  at  two  and  a  half  cents,  rice  at  eight  cents,  samp 
at  four,  mackerel  at  nine,  pork  at  twelve,  and  ham  at  fif- 
teen cents.  The  last  two  articles  were  used  sparingly,  and 
more  as  relishes  and  for  flavoring  than  as  food.  Flour  hap- 
pened to  be  cheap  at  the  time,  the  best  costing  but  seven 
dollars  a  barrel;  of  vegetables,  we  had  secured  abundance 
at  slight  cost;  and  the  apples  still  added  the  wholesome  ele- 
ment of  fruit.  A  butcher  drove  his  wagon  to  our  door 
three  times  a  week  and,  for  cash,  would  give  us,  at  very 
reasonable  rates,  certain  cuts  of  beef  and  mutton.  These 
my  wife  conjured  into  appetizing  dishes  and  delicious  soups. 

Thus  it  can  be  seen  that  we  had  a  varied  diet  at  a  sur- 
prisingly small  outlay.  Such  details  may  appear  to  some 
very  homely,  yet  our  health  and  success  depended  largely 
upon  thoughtful  attention  to  just  such  prosaic  matters.  The 
children  were  growing  plump  and  ruddy  at  an  expense  less 
than  would  be  incurred  by  one  or  two  visits  from  a  fashion- 
able physician  in  the  city. 

In  the  matter  of  food,  I  also  gave  more  thought  to  my 
wife's  time  and  strength  than  to  the  little  people's  wishes. 
While  we  had  variety  and  abundance,  we  did  not  have  many 
dishes  at  any  one  meal. 

"We  shall  not  permit  mamma  to  be  over  the  hot  range 
any  more  than  is  necessary,''  I  said.  "She  and  Mousie 
must  give  us,  from  day  to  day,  what  costs  little  in  time  as 
well  as  money." 

Fortunately,  plain,  wholesome  food  does  not  require 
much  time  in  preparation.  There  would  be  better  health  in 
many  homes  if  there  was  more  economy  in  labor.  For  in- 
stance, the  children  at  first  clamored  for  griddle-cakes,  but 


*'N0   BLIND   DRIFTING"*  IIB 

I  said,  "Isn't  it  nicer  to  have  mamma  sit  down  quietly  with 
us  at  breakfast  than  to  see  her  running  back  and  forth  from 
the  hot  stove?''  and  even  Bobsey,  though  rather  ruefully, 
voted  against  cakes,  except  on  rare  occasions. 

The  wash-tub  I  forbade  utterly,  and  the  services  of  a 
stout  Irishwoman  were  secured  for  one  day  in  the  week. 
Thus,  by  a  little  management,  my  wife  was  not  overtaxed. 
Indeed,  she  had  so  much  leisure  that  she  and  Mousie  began 
giving  Winnie  and  Bobsey  daily  lessons,  for  we  had  decided 
that  the  children  should  not  go  to  school  until  the  coming 
autumn.  Early  in  April,  therefore,  our  country  life  was 
passing  into  a  quiet  routine,  not  burdensome,  at  least  within 
doors;  and  I  justly  felt  that  if  all  were  well  in  the  citadel  of 
home,  the  chances  of  the  outdoor  campaign  were  greatly  im- 
proved. 


120  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  XXV 

OWLS   AND    ANTWERPS 

EACH  day  at  dawn,  unless  it  was  stormy,  Merton  pa- 
trolled the  place  with  his  gun,  looking  for  hawks 
and  other  creatures  which  at  this  season  he  was  per- 
mitted to  shoot.  He  had  quite  as  serious  and  important  an 
air  as  if  he  were  sallying  forth  to  protect  us  from  deadlier 
foes.  For  a  time  he  saw  nothing  to  fire  at,  since  he  had 
promised  me  not  to  shoot  harmless  birds.  He  always  in- 
dulged himself,  however,  in  one  shot  at  a  mark,  and  was  be- 
coming sure  in  his  aim  at  stationary  objects.  One  evening, 
however,  when  we  were  almost  ready  to  retire,  a  strange 
sound  startled  us.  At  first  it  reminded  me  of  the  half- 
whining  bark  of  a  young  dog,  but  the  deep,  guttural  trill 
that  followed  convinced  me  that  it  was  a  screech-owl,  for 
I  remembered  having  heard  these  birds  when  a  boy. 

The  moment  I  explained  the  sound,  Merton  darted  for 
his  gun,  and  my  wife  exclaimed:  ^^O  dear!  what  trouble  is 
coming  now  ?  Mother  always  said  that  the  hooting  of  an  owl 
near  a  house  was  a  bad  omen." 

I  did  not  share  in  the  superstition,  although  I  disliked  the 
uncanny  sounds,  and  was  under  the  impression  that  all  owls, 
like  hawks,  should  be  destroyed.  Therefore,  I  followed 
Merton  out,  hoping  that  he  would  get  a  successful  shot  at  the 
night  prowler. 

The  moonlight  illumined  everything  with  a  soft,  mild 
radiance;  and  the  trees,  with  their  tracery  of  bough  and 
twig,  stood  out  distinctly.  Before  we  could  discover  the 
creature,  it  flew  with  noiseless  wing  from  a  maple  near  the 
door  to  another  perch  up  the  lilne,  and  again  uttered  its  weird 
notes. 


OWLS    AND    ANTWERPS  12 1 

Merton  was  away  like  a  swift  shadow,  and,  screening 
himself  behind  the  fence,  stole  upon  his  game.  A  moment 
later  the  report  rang  out  in  the  still  night.  It  so  happened 
that  Merton  had  fired  just  as  the  bird  was  about  to  fly,  and 
had  only  broken  a  wing.  The  owl  fell  to  the  ground,  but 
led  the  boy  a  wild  pursuit  before  he  was  captured.  Merton's 
hands  were  bleeding  when  he  brought  the  creature  in.  Un- 
less prevented,  it  would  strike  savagely  with  its  beak,  and 
the  motions  of  its  head  were  as  quick  as  lightning.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  strange  captive,  and  the  children  looked  at  it  in 
wondering  and  rather  fearful  curiosity.  My  wife,  usually 
tender-hearted,  wished  the  creature,  so  ill-omened  in  her  eyes, 
to  be  killed  at  once,  but  I  granted  Morton's  request  that  he 
might  put  it  in  a  box  and  keep  it  alive  for  a  while. 

"In  the  morning,"  I  said,  "we  will  read  all  about  it,  and 
can  examine  it  more  carefully." 

My  wife  yielded,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that  she  thought 
we  might  avert  misfortune  by  showing  mercy. 

Among  my  purchases  was  a  recent  work  on  natural  his- 
tory. But  our  minds  had  been  engrossed  with  too  many 
practical  questions  to  give  it  much  attention.  Next  morning 
we  consulted  it,  and  found  our  captive  variously  described 
as  the  little  red,  the  mottled,  or  the  screech  owl.  Then  fol- 
lowed an  account  of  its  character  and  habits.  We  learned 
that  we  had  made  war  upon  a  useful  friend,  instead  of  an 
ill-boding,  harmful  creature.  We  were  taught  that  this 
species  is  a  destroyer  of  mice,  beetles,  and  vermin,  thus  ren- 
dering the  agriculturist  great  services,  which,  however  are  so 
little  known  that  the  bird  is  everywhere  hunted  down  without 
mercy  or  justice. 

"Surely,  this  is  not  true  of  all  owls,"  I  said,  and  by  read- 
ing further  we  learned  that  the  barred,  or  hoot  owl,  and  the 
great  horned  owl,  were  deserving  of  a  surer  aim  of  Merton's 
gun.  They  prey  not  only  upon  useful  game,  but  also  in- 
vade the  poultry-yard,  the  horned  species  being  especially  de- 
etructive.  Instances  were  given  in  which  these  freebooters 
had  killed  every  chicken  upon  a  farm.     As  they  hunt  only 


122  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

at  night,  they  are  hard  to  capture.  Their  notes  and  natures 
are  said  to  be  in  keeping  with  their  deeds  of  darkness;  for 
their  cry  is  wild,  harsh,  and  unearthly,  while  in  temper  they 
are  cowardly,  savage,  and  untamable,  showing  no  affection 
even  for  each  other.  A  female  has  been  known  to  kill  and 
eat  the  male. 

"The  moral  of  this  owl  episode,"  I  concluded,  "is  that 
we  must  learn  to  know  our  neighbors,  be  they  birds,  beasts, 
or  human  beings,  before  we  judge  them.  This  book  is  not 
only  full  of  knowledge,  but  of  information  that  is  practical 
and  useful.  I  move  that  we  read  up  about  the  creatures  in 
our  vicinity.  What  do  you  say,  Merton  ?  wouldn't  it  be  well 
to  learn  what  to  shoot,  as  well  as  how  to  shoot  ?" 

Protecting  his  hands  with  buckskin  gloves,  the  boy  ap- 
plied mutton  suet  to  our  wounded  owl's  wing.  It  was  eventu- 
ally healed,  and  the  bird  was  given  its  liberty.  It  gradually 
became  sprightly  and  tame,  and  sociable  in  the  evening, 
affording  the  children  and  Junior  much  amusement. 

By  the  7th  of  April  there  was  a  prospect  of  warmer 
and  more  settled  weather,  and  Mr.  Jones  told  us  to  lose  no 
time  in  uncovering  our  Antwerp  raspberries.  They  had  been 
bent  down  close  to  the  ground  the  previous  winter  and  cov- 
ered with  earth.  To  remove  this  without  breaking  the  canes, 
required  careful  and  skilful  work.  We  soon  acquired  the 
knack,  however,  of  pushing  and  throwing  aside  the  soil,  then 
lifting  the  canes  gently  through  what  remained,  and  shaking 
them  clear. 

"Be  careful  to  level  the  ground  evenly,"  Mr.  Jones 
warned  us,  "for  it  won't  do  at  all  to  leave  hummocks  of  dirt 
around  the  hills  ;"  and  we  followed  his  instructions. 

The  canes  were  left  until  a  heavy  shower  of  rain  washed 
them  clean;  then  Winnie  and  Bobsey  tied  them  up.  We 
gave  steady  and  careful  attention  to  the  Antwerps,  since  thej^ 
would  be  our  main  dependence  for  income.  I  also  raked  in 
around  the  hills  of  one  row  a  liberal  dressing  of  wood  ashei^ 
intending  to  note  its  effect. 


A    COUNTRY    SUNDAY  123 


CHAPTEK  XXYI 

A      COUNTRY      SUNDAY 

HITHEKTO  the  Sabbaths  had  been  stormy  and  the 
roads  bad,  and  we  had  given  the  days  to  rest  and 
family  sociability.  But  at  last  there  came  a  mild, 
sunny  morning,  and  we  resolved  to  find  a  church-home.  I 
had  heard  that  Dr.  Lyman,  who  preached  in  the  nearest  vil- 
lage, had  the  faculty  of  keeping  young  people  awake.  There- 
fore we  harnessed  the  old  bay-horse  to  our  market-wagon, 
donned  our  "go-ter-meetin's,"  as  Junior  called  his  Sunday 
clothes,  and  started.  Whatever  might  be  the  result  of  the 
sermon,  the  drive  promised  to  do  us  good.  The  tender  young 
grass  by  the  roadside,  and  the  swelling  buds  of  trees,  gave 
forth  delicious  odors;  a  spring  haze  softened  the  outline  of 
the  mountains,  and  made  them  almost  as  beautiful  as  if 
clothed  with  foliage;  robins,  song-sparrows,  and  other  birds 
were  so  tuneful  that  Mousie  said  she  wished  they  might 
form  the  choir  at  the  church.  Indeed,  the  glad  spirit  of  Spring 
was  abroad,  and  it  found  its  way  into  our  hearts.  We  soon 
learned  that  it  entered  largely  also  into  Dr.  Lyman^s  sermon. 
We  were  not  treated  as  strangers  and  intruders,  but  welcomed 
and  shown  to  a  pew  in  a  way  that  made  us  feel  at  home.  I 
discovered  that  I,  too,  should  be  kept  awake  and  given  much 
to  think  about.  We  remained  until  Sunday-school,  which 
followed  the  service,  was  over,  and  then  went  home,  feeling 
that  life  both  here  and  hereafter  was  something  to  be  thank- 
ful for.  After  dinner,  without  even  taking  the  precaution 
of  locking  the  door,  we  all  strolled  down  the  lane  and  the 
steeply  sloping  meadow  to  our  wood  lot  and  the  banks  of  the 


124  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

Moodna  Creek.  My  wife  had  never  seen  this  portion  of  our 
place  before,  and  she  was  delighted  with  its  wild  beauty  and 
seclusion.  She  shivered  and  turned  a  little  pale,  however, 
as  she  saw  the  stream,  still  high  and  swift,  that  had  carried 
Bobsey  away. 

Junior  joined  us,  and  led  the  children  to  a  sunny  bank, 
from  which  soon  came  shouts  of  joy  over  the  first  wildflowers 
of  the  season.  I  placed  my  wife  on  a  rock,  and  we  sat  quietly 
for  a  time,  inhaling  the  fresh  woody  odors,  and  listening  to 
the  murmurs  of  the  creek  and  the  song  of  the  birds.  Then 
I  asked :  ^^Isn't  this  better  than  a  city  flat  and  a  noisy  street  ? 
Are  not  these  birds  pleasanter  neighbors  than  the  Dag- 
getts  and  the  Kicketts  ?" 

Her  glad  smile  was  more  eloquent  than  words  could 
have  been.  Mousie  came  running  to  us,  holding  in  her  hand, 
which  trembled  from  excitement,  a  little  bunch  of  liverworts 
and  anemones.  Tears  of  happiness  actually  stood  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  could  only. falter,  ^^O  mamma!  just  look!''  and 
then  she  hastened  away  to  gather  more. 

'That  child  belongs  to  nature,''  I  said,  ''and  would  always 
be  an  exile  in  the  city.  How  greatly  she  has  improved  in 
health  already!" 

The  air  grew  damp  and  chill  early,  and  we  soon  returned 
to  the  house.  Monday  was  again  fair,  and  found  us  absorbed 
in  our  busy  life,  each  one  having  plenty  to  do.  When  it  was 
safe  to  uncover  the  raspberries,  Merton  and  I  had  not  lost  a 
moment  in  the  task.  At  the  time  of  which  I  write  we  put  in 
stakes  where  they  were  missing,  obtaining  not  a  few  of  them 
from  the  wood  lot.  We  also  made  our  second  planting  of  po- 
tatoes and  other  hardy  vegetables  in  the  garden.  The  plants 
in  the  kitchen  window  were  thriving,  and  during  mild,  still 
days  we  carried  them  to  a  sheltered  place  without,  that  they 
might  become  inured  to  the  open  air. 

Winnie  already  had  three  hens  sitting  on  their  nests  full 
of  eggs,  and  she  was  counting  the  days  until  the  three  weeks 
of  incubation  should  expire,  and  the  little  chicks  break  their 
shells.     One  of  the  hens  proved  a  fickle  biddy,  and  left  her 


A    COUJSTRY   SUNDAY  125 

nest,  much  to  the  child's  anger  and  disgust.  But  the  others 
were  faithful,  and  one  morning  Winnie  came  bounding  in, 
saying  she  had  heard  the  first  "peep.''  I  told  her  to  be  pa- 
tient and  leave  the  brood  until  the  following  day,  since  I  had 
read  that  the  chicks  were  stronger  for  not  being  taken  from 
the  nest  too  soon.  She  had  treated  the  mother  hens  so  kindly 
that  they  were  tame,  and  permitted  her  to  throw  out  the 
empty  shells,  and  exult  over  each  new-comer  into  a  brief 
existence. 

Our  radishes  had  come  up  nicely;  but  no  sooner  had  the 
first  green  leaves  expanded  than  myriads  of  little  flea-like 
beetles  devoured  them.  A  timely  article  in  my  horticultural 
paper  explained  that  if  little  chickens  were  allowed  to 
run  in  the  garden  they  would  soon  destroy  these  and  other  in- 
sects. Therefore  I  improvised  a  coop  by  laying  down  a  bar- 
rel near  the  radishes  and  driving  stakes  in  front  of  it  to  con- 
fine the  hen,  which  otherwise,  with  the  best  intentions,  would 
have  scratched  up  all  my  sprouting  seeds.  Hither  we  brought 
her  the  following  day,  with  her  downy  brood  of  twelve,  and 
they  soon  began  to  make  themselves  useful.  Winnie  fed 
them  with  Indian-meal  and  mashed  potatoes  and  watched  over 
them  with  more  than  their  mother's  solicitude,  while  Merton 
renewed  his  vigilance  against  hawks  and  other  enemies. 

With  this  new  attraction,  and  wildflowers  in  the  woods, 
the  tying  up  of  raspberries  became  weary  prose  to  Win- 
nie and  Bobsey;  but  I  kept  them  at  it  during  most  of  the 
forenoon  of  every  pleasant  day  and  if  they  performed  their 
task  carelessly,  I  made  them  do  it  over.  I  knew  that  the 
time  was  coming  when  many  kinds  of  work  would  cease  to 
be  play  to  us  all,  and  that  we  might  as  well  face  the  fact  first 
as  last.  After  the  morning  duties  were  over,  and  the  after- 
noon lessons  learned,  there  was  plenty  of  time  for  play,  and 
the  two  little  people  enjoyed  it  all  the  more. 

Merton,  also,  had  two  afternoons  in  the  week  and  he  and 
Junior  began  to  bring  home  strings  of  sweet  little  sunfish  and 
winfish.  Boys  often  become  disgusted  with  country  life  be- 
cause it  is  made  hard  and  monotonous  for  them. 


126  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEE  XXVn 

STRAWBERRY  VISIONS   AND   "  PERTATERS  " 

I  HAD  decided  that  I  would  not  set  out  any  more  rasp- 
berries until  I  had  learned  the  comparative  value  of 
those  already  on  the  place.  After  I  had  seen  my  vari- 
eties in  bearing  and  marketed  the  crop,  I  should  be  better  able 
to  make  a  wise  selection.  ^^Why  not  plant  only  the  best  and 
most  profitable  ?"  I  reasoned.  At  Mr.  Jones's  suggestion  I  had 
put  up  notices  at  public  resorts,  and  inserted  a  brief  adver- 
tisement in  a  local  paper,  stating  that  I  had  plants  for  sale. 
Asa  result,  I  sold,  at  a  low  price,  it  is  true,  the  greater  part  of 
the  young  plants  that  had  been  trenched  in,  and  the  ready 
money  they  brought  was  very  acceptable. 

From  the  first,  my  mind  had  often  turned  toward 
strawberries  as  one  of  our  chief  crops.  They  promised  well 
for  several  reasons,  the  main  one  being  that  they  would  afford 
a  light  and  useful  form  of  labor  for  all  the  children.  Even 
Bobsey  could  pick  the  fruit  almost  as  well  as  any  of  us,  for  he 
had  no  long  back  to  ache  in  getting  down  to  it.  The  crop, 
also,  could  be  gathered  and  sold  before  the  raspberry  season 
began,  and  this  was  an  important  fact.  We  should  also  have 
another  and  earlier  source  of  income.  I  had  read  a  great 
deal  about  the  cultivation  of.  the  strawberry,  and  I  had  visited 
a  Maizeville  neighbor  who  grew  them  on  a  large  scale,  and 
had  obtained  his  views.  To  make  my  knowledge  more  com- 
plete, I  wrote  to  my  Washington-Market  friend,  Mr.  Bogart, 
and  his  prompt  letter  in  reply  was  encouraging. 

"Don't  go  into  too  many  kinds,"  he  advised,  "and  don't 
set  too  much  ground.  A  few  crates  of  fine  berries  will  pay 
you  better  than  bushels  of  small,  soft,  worthless  trash.  Steer 
clear  of  high-priced  novelties  and  fancy  sorts,  and  begin  with 


8TEAWBEBBY    VISIONS   AND   ''PERTATERS"        127 

only  those  known  to  pay  well  in  your  region.  Try  Wilson's 
(they're  good  to  sell  if  not  to  eat)  and  Duchess  for  early,  and 
Sharpless  and  Champion  for  late.  Set  the  last  two  kinds  out 
side  by  side,  for  the  Champions  won't  bear  alone.  A  cus- 
tomer of  mine  runs  on  these  four  sorts.  He  gives  them  high 
culture,  and  gets  big  crops  and  big  berries,  which  pay  big. 
When  you  want  crates,  I  can  furnish  them,  and  take  my  pay 
out  of  the  sales  of  your  fruit.  Don't  spend  much  money 
for  plants.  Buy  a  few  of  each  kind,  and  set  'em  in  moist 
ground  and  let  'em  run.  By  winter  you'll  have  enough 
plants  to  cover  your  farm." 

I  found  that  I  could  buy  these  standard  varieties  in  the  vi- 
cinity; and  having  made  the  lower  part  of  the  garden  very 
rich,  I  procured,  one  cloudy  day,  two  hundred  plants  of  each 
kind  and  set  them  in  rows,  six  feet  apart,  so  that  by  a  little 
watchfulness  I  could  keep  them  separate.  I  obtained  my 
whole  stock  for  ^ye  dollars;  therefore,  counting  our  time  and 
everything,  the  cost  of  entering  on  strawberry  culture  was 
slight.  A  rainy  night  followed,  and  every  plant  started 
vigorously. 

In  spite  of  occasional  frosts  and  cold  rains,  the  days  grew 
longer  and  warmer.  The  cherry,  peach,  plum,  and  pear 
buds  were  almost  ready  to  burst  into  bloom,  but  Mr.  Jones 
shook  his  head  over  the  orchard. 

^^This  ain't  apple  year,"  he  said.  "Well,  no  matter.  If 
you  can  make  it  go  this  season,  you  will  be  sure  of  better  luck 
next  year." 

He  had  come  over  to  aid  me  in  choosing  a  two-acre  plot 
of  ground  for  corn  and  potatoes.  This  we  marked  out.  from 
the  upper  and  eastern  slope  of  a  large  meadow.  The  grass 
was  running  out  and  growing  weedy. 

"It's  time  it  was  turned  over,"  my  neighbor  remarked; 
"and  by  fall  it'll  be  in  good  condition  for  fruit." 

I  proposed  to  extend  my  fruit  area  gradually,  with  good 
reason,  fearing  that  much  hired  help  would  leave  small 
profits. 

That  very  afternoon  Mr.  Jones,  with  his  sharp  steel  plow, 

Roe— IX— U 


128  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

began  to  turn  over  clean,  deep,  even  furrows;  for  we  had 
selected  the  plot  in  view  of  the  fact  that  it  was  not  stony,  as 
Was  the  case  with  other  portions  of  our  little  farm. 

When  at  last  the  ground  was  plowed,  he  said :  ^^I  wouldn^t 
harrow  the  part  meant  for  corn  till  you  are  ready  to  plant 
it,  say  about  the  tenth  of  next  month.  We'd  better  get  the 
pertater  ground  ready  and  the  rows  furrowed  out  right  off. 
Early  plantin'  is  the  best.     How  much  will  ye  give  to  'em  V 

"Half  the  plot,"  I  said. 

•'Why ,  Mr.  Durham,  that's  a  big  plantin'  for  pertaters." 

"Well,  I've  a  plan,  and  would  like  your  opinion.  If  I 
put  Early  Rose  potatoes  right  in,  when  can  I  harvest  them  ?" 

"Say  the  last  of  July  or  early  August,  accordin'  to  the 
season." 

"If  we  keep  the  ground  clean  and  well  worked  the  sod 
will  then  be  decayed,  won't  it?" 

"Yes,  nigh  enough.  Ye  want  to  grow  turnips  or  fodder 
corn,  I  s'pose  ?" 

"No,  I  want  to  set  out  strawberries.  I've  read  more 
about  this  fruit  than  any  other,  and,  if  the  books  are  right,  I 
can  set  strong  plants  on  enriched  ground  early  in  August  and 
get  a  good  crop  next  June.  Won't  this  pay  better  than 
planting  next  spring  and  waiting  over  two  years  from  this 
time  for  a  crop?" 

"Of  course  it  will,  if  you're  right.  I  ain't  up  on  straw- 
berries." 

"Well,"  I  continued,  "it  looks  reasonable.  I  shall  have 
my  young  plants  growing  right  here  in  my  own  garden. 
Merton  and  I  can  take  them  up  in  the  cool  of  the  evening 
and  in  wet  weather,  and  they  won't  know  they've  been  moved. 
I  propose  to  get  these  early  potatoes  out  of  the  ground  as 
soon  as  possible,  even  if  I  have  to  sell  part  of  them  before 
they  are  fully  ripe;  then  have  the  ground  plowed  deep  and 
marked  out  for  strawberries,  put  all  the  fertilizers  I  can 
scrape  together  in  the  rows  and  set  the  plants  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. I've  read  again  and  again  that  many  growers  regard 
this  method  as  one  of  the  best." 


STEAWBERRY   VISIOJSS   AND    ''PERTATERS"        129 

".Well,  you're  comin'  on  for  a  beginner.  I'm  kind  o' 
shy  of  book-plans,  though.  But  try  it.  I'll  come  over, 
as  I  used  to  when  old  man  Jamison  was  here,  and  sit  on  the 
fence  and  make  remarks." 

Planting  an  acre  of  potatoes  was  no  light  task  for  us, 
even  after  the  ground  was  plowed  and  harrowed,  and  the 
furrows  for  the  rows  were  marked  out.  I  also  had  to  make 
a  half -day's  journey  to  the  city  of  Newtown  to  buy  more  seed, 
since  the  children's  appetites  had  greatly  reduced  the  stock 
in  the  root-cellar.  For  a  few  days  we  worked  like  beavers. 
Even  Winnie  helped  Merton  to  drop  the  seed;  and  in  the 
evening  we  had  regular  potato-cutting  "bees,"  Junior  com- 
ing over  to  aid  us,  and  my  wife  and  Mousie  helping  also. 
Songs  and  stories  enlivened  these  evening  hours  of  labor. 
Indeed,  my  wife  and  Mousie  performed,  during  the  day,  a 
large  part  of  this  task,  and  they  soon  learned  to  cut  the 
tubers  skilfully.  I  have  since  known  this  work  to  be 
done  so  carelessly  that  some  pieces  were  cut  without  a 
single  eye  upon  them.  Of  course,  in  such  cases  there  is 
nothing  to  grow. 

One  Saturday  night,  the  last  of  April,  we  exulted  over 
the  fact  that  our  acre  was  planted  and  the  seed  well  covered. 

Many  of  the  trees  about  the  house,  meantime,  had 
clothed  themselves  with  fragrant  promises  of  fruit.  All, 
especially  Mousie,  had  been  observant  of  the  beautiful 
changes,  and,  busy  as  we  had  been,  she,  Winnie  and 
Bobsey  had  been  given  time  to  keep  our  table  well  supplied 
with  wildfiowers.  iN'ow  that  they  had  come  in  abundance,* 
they  seemed  as  essential  as  our  daily  food.  To  a  limited 
extent  I  permitted  blooming  sprays  to  be  taken  from  the 
fruit-trees,  thinking,  with  Mousie,  that  "cherry  blossoms  are 
almost  as  nice  as  cherries."  Thus  Nature  graced  our  frugal 
board,  and  suggested  that,  as  she  accompanied  her  useful 
work  with  beauty  and  fragrance,  so  we  also  could  lift  our 
toilsome  lives  above  the  coarse  and  sordid  phase  too  common 
in  country  homes. 


130  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII 

CORN,    COLOR,    AND   MUSIC 

IN  early  May  the  grass  was  growing  lush  and  strong,  and 
Brindle  was  driven  down  the  lane  to  the  meadow,  full 
of  thickets,  which  bordered  on  the  creek.  Here  she 
could  supply  herself  with  food  and  water  until  the  late 
autumn. 

With  the  first  days  of  the  month  we  planted,  on  a  part 
of  the  garden  slope,  where  the  soil  was  dry  and  warm,  very 
early,  dwarf  sweet  corn,  a  second  early  variety.  Burros  Mam- 
moth, and  Stowell's  Evergreen. 

^These  several  kinds,''  I  said,  "will  give  us  a  suc- 
cession of  boiling  ears  for  weeks  together.  When  this  plant- 
ing is  up  a  few  inches  high,  we  will  make  another,  for,  by 
so  doing,  my  garden  book  says  we  may  have  this  delicious 
vegetable  till  frost  comes." 

After  reading  and  some  inquiry  during  the  winter  I  had 
decided  to  buy  only  McLean's  Gem  peas  for  seed.  This 
low-growing  kind  required  no  brush  and,  therefore,  far  less 
labor.  By  putting  in  a  row  every  ten  days  till  the  last  of 
June,  we  should  enjoy  green  peas  of  the  sweet,  wrinkled  sort 
till  tired,  if  that  were  possible.  We  also  planted  early  dwarf 
wax-beans,  covering  the  seed,  as  directed,  only  two  inches 
deep.  It  was  my  ambition  to  raise  a  large  crop  of  Lima 
beans,  having  read  that  few  vegetables  yield  more  food  to  a 
small  area  than  they.  So,  armed  with  an  axe  and  a  hatchet, 
Merton  and  I  went  into  some  young  growth  on  the  edge  of 
our  wood  lot  and  cut  thirty  poles,  lopping  off  the  branches 
ao  as  to  leave  little  crotches  on  which  the  vines  could  rest 


CORN,    COLOR,    AND    MUSIC  181 

for  support.  Having  sharpened  these  poles  we  set  them  firmly 
in  the  garden,  four  feet  apart  each  way,  then  dug  in  some 
very  fine  and  decayed  manure  around  each  pole,  and  left  the 
soil  for  a  day  or  two  to  grow  warm  and  light.  My  book 
said  that,  if  the  earth  was  cold,  wet,  or  heavy  the  beans  would 
decay  instead  of  coming  up.  The  10th  of  the  month  being 
fine  and  promising,  I  pressed  the  eye  or  germ  side  of  the 
beans  into  the  soil  and  covered  them  only  one  inch  deep. 
In  the  evening  we  set  out  our  cabbage  and  cauliflower  plants 
where  they  should  be  allowed  to  mature.  The  tomato  plants, 
being  more  tender  than  their  companions  started  in  the 
kitchen  window,  were  set  about  four  inches  apart  in  a  shel- 
tered place.  We  could  thus  cover  them  at  night  and  protect 
them  a  little  from  the  midday  sun  for  a  week  or  two  longer. 

Nor  were  Mousie's  flowering  plants  forgotten.  She  had 
watched  over  them  from  the  seed  with  tireless  care,  and  now 
we  made  a  bed  and  helped  the  happy  child  to  put  her  little 
nurslings  in  the  open  ground  where  they  were  to  bloom. 
The  apple-trees  made  the  air  fragrant,  and  some  of  the  deli- 
cate pink  of  their  blossoms  was  in  Mousie's  cheeks. 

"Truly,"  I  thought,  as  I  looked  into  her  sparkling  eyes, 
"if  we  can  but  barely  live  in  the  country,  I  am  glad  we  came.'' 

The  next  morning  Merton  and  I  began  our  great  under- 
taking— the  planting  of  the  other  acre  of  ground,  next  to 
the  potatoes,  with  field  corn.  Mr.,  Jones  had  harrowed  it 
comparatively  smooth.  I  had  a  light  plow  with  which  to 
mark  out  the  furrows  four  feet  apart  each  way.  At  the  in- 
tersection of  these  furrows  the  seed  was  to  be  dropped.  I 
found  I  could  not  drive  our  old  bay  straight  across  the  field 
to  save  my  life,  and  neighbor  Jones  laughed  till  his  sides 
ached  at  the  curves  and  crooks  I  first  left  behind  me. 

"Here,  Merton,"  I  cried,  nothing  daunted,  "we  must 
work  together  again.  Get  a  pole  and  stand  it  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  plot  four  feet  in  from  the  edge  of  the  sod.  That's 
right.  "Now  come  here ;  take  old  Bay  by  the  head,  and,  with 
your  eyes  fixed  on  the  pole,  lead  him  steadily  toward  it." 

A  furrow  was  now  made    of  which  Mr.  Jones  himself 


132  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

need  not  have  been  ashamed;  and  he  laughed  as  he  said,  at 
parting  "You'll  do.  I  see  you've  got  enough  Yankee  in  you 
to  try  more  ways  than  one." 

We  kept  at  work  manfully,  although  the  day  was  warm, 
and  by  noon  the  plot  was  furrowed  one  way.  After  dinner 
we  took  an  hour's  partial  rest  in  shelling  our  corn  and  then 
resumed  our  work,  and  in  the  same  manner  began  furrowing 
at  right  angles  with  the  first  rows.  The  hills  were  thus 
about  four  feet  apart  each  way.  Merton  dropped  the  corn 
after  we  had  run  half  a  dozen  furrows. 

"Drop  five  kernels,"  I  said;  for  Mr.  Jones  had  told  us 
that  four  stalks  were  enough  and  that  three  would  do,  but 
had  added :  "I  plant  five  kernels,  for  some  don't  come  up,  and 
the  crows  and  other  vermints  take  others.  If  all  of  'em 
grow,  it's  easier  to  pull  up  one  stalk  at  the  first  hoeing  than 
to  plant  over  again." 

We  found  that  putting  in  the  corn  was  a  lighter  task 
than  planting  the  potatoes  even  though  we  did  our  own  fur- 
rowing; and  by  the  middle  of  May  we  were  complacent 
over  the  fact  that  we  had  succeeded  with  our  general  spring 
work  far  better  than  we  had  hoped,  remembering  that  we 
were  novices  who  had  to  take  so  much  counsel  from  books 
and  from  our  kind,  practical  neighbor. 

The  foliage  of  the  trees  was  now  out  in  all  its  delicately 
shaded  greenery,  and  midday  often  gave  us  a  foretaste  of 
summer  heat.  The  slight  blaze  kindled  in  the  old  fireplace, 
after  supper,  was  more  for  the  sake  of  good  cheer  than  for 
needed  warmth,  and  at  last  it  was  dispensed  with.  Thrushes 
and  other  birds  of  richer  and  fuller  song  had  come,  and 
morning  and  evening  we  left  the  door  open  that  we  might 
enjoy  the  varied  melody. 

Our  first  plantings  of  potatoes  and  early  vegetables  were 
now  up  and  looked  promising.  So  a  new  phase  of  labor — 
that  of  cultivation — began.  ITew  broods  of  chickens  were 
coming  off,  and  Winnie  had  many  families  to  look  after. 
^Nevertheless,  although  there  was  much  to  attend  to,  the 
season  was  bringing  a  short  breathing-spell,  and  I  resolved 


COR]^,    COLOR,    AND   MUSIC  133 

to  take  advantage  of  it.  So  I  said  one  Friday  evening: 
"If  to-morrow  is  fair,  we'll  take  a  vacation.  What  do  you 
say  to  a  day's  fishing  and  sailing  on  the  river  ?" 

A  jubilant  shout  greeted  this  proposal,  and  when  it  had 
subsided,  Mousie  asked,  "Can't  Junior  go  with  us  ?" 

"Certainly,"  I  replied;  "I'll  go  over  right  after  supper, 
and  make  sure  that  his  father  consents." 

Mr.  Jones  said,  "Yes,"  and  Merton  and  Junior  were  soon 
busy  with  their  preparations,  which  were  continued  until  the 
long  twilight  deepened  into  dusk. 


t 


134  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEK  XXIX 

WE     GO     AFISHING 

THE  following  day,  happily,  proved  all  that  we  could 
desire.  The  children  were  up  with  the  dawn, 
and  Junior  was  not  long  in  joining  us.  By  eight 
o'clock  we  had  finished  breakfast  and  the  morning  work, 
our  lunch-basket  was  packed,  and  the  market-wagon  stood 
at  the  door.  Mr.  Jones  had  good-naturedly  promised  to  take 
a  look  at  the  premises  occasionally  to  see  that  all  was  right. 
I  had  put  but  one  seat  in  the  wagon  for  my  wife  and  myseK, 
since  the  young  people  decided  that  a  straw-ride  to  the  river 
would  be  "more  fun  than  a  parlor-car." 

My  wife  entered  into  the  spirit  of  this  little  outing  with 
a  zest  which  gave  me  deep  content.  Her  face  indicated 
no  regretful  thoughts  turning  toward  the  Egypt  of  the  city ; 
her  mother  love  was  so  strong  that  she  was  happy  with  the 
children.  The  robins,  of  which  there  seemed  no  end  about 
the  house,  gave  us  a  tuneful  and  hilarious  send-off ;  the  grown 
people  and  children  whom  we  met  smiled  and  cheered,  fol- 
lowing us  with  envious  eyes.  Each  of  the  children  held  a 
pole  aloft,  and  Merton  said  that  "the  wagon  looked  as  if 
our  Lima-bean  patch  was  off  on  a  visit." 

In  the  village  we  increased  our  stock  of  lines  and  hooks, 
and  bought  a  few  corks  for  floats.  We  soon  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  Moodna  Creek,  where  stood  a  weather-beaten 
boat-house,  with  a  stable  adjoining,  in  which  old  Bay  could 
enjoy  himself  in  his  quiet,  prosaic  way.  [A  good-sized  boat 
was  hired,  and,  as  the  tide  was  in,  we  at  first  decided  to  go 
up  the  creek  as  far  as  possible  and  float  down  with  the  ebb. 


WE   QO   A-FISHWO  135 

This,  to  the  children,  was  like  a  voyage  of  discovery,  and 
there  was  a  general  airing  of  geography,  each  little  bay,  point, 
and  gulf  receiving  some  noted  name.  At  last  we  reached 
a  deep,  shaded  pool,  which  was  eventually  dubbed  "Bobsey's 
Luck;"  for  he  nearly  fell  into  it  in  his  eagerness  to  take  off 
a  minnow  that  had  managed  to  fasten  itself  to  his  hook. 

Merton  and  Junior,  being  more  experienced  anglers,  went 
ashore  to  make  some  casts  on  the  ripples  and  rapids  of  the 
stream  above,  and  secured  several  fine  "winfish."  The  rest 
of  us  were  content  to  take  it  easy  in  the  shade  and  hook 
an  occasional  cat  and  sun  fish.  At  last  the  jounger  children 
wanted  variety,  so  I  permitted  them  to  land  on  the  wooded 
bank,  kindle  a  little  fire,  and  roast  some  clams  that  we  had 
bought  at  the  boat-house.  The  smoke  and  the  tempting 
odors  lured  Merton  and  Junior,  who  soon  proved  that  boys^ 
appetites  can  always  be  depended  upon. 

Time  passed  rapidly,  and  I  at  last  noticed  that  the  tide 
had  fallen  to  such  a  degree  as  to  fill  me  with  alarm. 

"Come,  youngsters,"  I  cried,  "we  must  go  back  at  once, 
or  we  shall  have  to  stay  here  till  almost  night." 

They  scrambled  on  board,  and  we  started  down-stream, 
but  soon  came  to  shallow  water,  as  was  proved  by  the  swift  cur- 
rent and  the  ripples.  A  moment  later  we  were  hard  aground. 
In  vain  we  pushed  with  the  oars ;  the  boat  would  not  budge. 
Then  Junior  sat  down  and  coolly  began  to  take  off  shoes  and 
stockings.  In  a  flash  Merton  followed  his  example.  There 
was  no  help  for  it,  and  we  had  no  time  to  lose.  Over  they 
splashed,  lightening  the  boat,  and  taking  the  "painter,"  or 
tie-rope,  at  the  bow,  they  pulled  manfully.  Slowly  at  first, 
but  with  increasing  progress,  the  keel  grated  over  the  stones, 
and  at  last  we  were  again  afloat.  A  round  of  applause  greeted 
the  boys  as  they  sprung  back  into  the  boat,  and  away  we 
went,  cautiously  avoiding  shoals  and  sand-bars,  until  we 
reached  Plum  Point,  where  we  expected  to  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day.  Here,  for  a  time,  we  had  excellent 
sport,  and  pulled  up  sunfish  and  white  perch  of  a  very  fair 
size.     Bobsey  caught  so  large  a  specimen  of  the  former 


186  DRIVEN  BACK    TO   EDEN 

variety  that  he  had  provided  himself  with  a  supper  equal 
even  to  his  capacity. 

The  day  ended  in  unalloyed  pleasure,  and  never  had 
the  old  farm-house  looked  so  like  home  as  when  it  greeted 
us  again  in  the  evening  glow  of  the  late  spring  sun.  Merton 
and  Junior  divided  the  finny  spoils  to  their  satisfaction,  while 
Winnie  and  I  visited  the  chicken-coops  and  found  that  there 
had  been  no  mishaps  during  our  absence.  I  told  my  boy  that 
I  would  milk  the  cow  while  he  cleaned  the  fish  for  supper, 
and  when  at  last  we  sat  down  we  formed  a  tired,  hilarious, 
and  hungry  group.  Surely,  if  fish  were  created  to  be  eaten, 
our  enjoyment  of  their  browned  sweetness  must  have 
rounded  out  their  existence  completely. 

"O  papa!"  exclaimed  Merton,  at  the  breakfast  table,  on 
Monday  morning;  "we  haven't  planted  any  musk  and  water 
melons !'' 

"That  is  true,''  I  replied.  "I  find  that  I  overlooked 
melons  in  making  out  my  list  of  seeds.  Indeed,  I  passed 
them  over,  I  imagine,  as  a  luxury  that  we  could  dispense 
with  the  first  year." 

"I'll  take  care  of  'em  if  you  will  only  let  us  have  some/' 
persisted  the  boy;  and  the  other  children  joined  in  his  re- 
quest. 

"But  the  garden  is  all  filled  up,"  I  said,  thoughtfully; 
"and  I  fear  it  is  too  late  to  plant  now." 

Looks  of  disappointment  led  me  to  think  further  and  I 
got  one  of  my  seed  catalogues. 

"Here  are  some  early  kinds  named  and  perhaps  they 
would  mature;  but  where  shall  we  put  them?" 

"Seems  to  me  we  had  better  have  a  little  less  corn,  if 
room  can  be  made  for  melons,"  was  Merton's  suggestion. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  I  continued.  "We've  had 
such  good  fortune  in  accomplishing  our  early  work,  and  you 
have  helped  so  nicely,  that  you  shall  try  your  hand  at 
melons.  Drive  your  mother  and  Mousie  down  to  the  village 
this  morning,  and  get  some  seeds  of  the  nutmeg  musk-melon 
and  Phinney's  early  watermelon.     I'll  take  two  rows  in  the 


WE   00   A'FISHINO  137 

early  com  on  the  warm  garden  slope,  pull  up  every  third 
hill,  and  make,  in  their  places,  nice,  warm,  rich  beds  for 
the  seed  which  we  will  plant  as  soon  as  you  come  back. 
I  don't  believe  the  corn  will  shade  the  melon  vines  too  much; 
and  as  soon  as  we  have  taken  off  the  green  ears  we  will  cut 
away  the  stalks.  Thus  we  shall  get  two  crops  from  the  same 
ground." 

This  plan  was  carried  out,  and  the  melon  seed  came  up 
in  a  very  promising  way. 


138  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   UiDEN 


CHAPTER  XXX 

WEEDS  AND  WORKING  FOR  DEAR  LIFE 

THE  beautiful  transition  period  of  spring  passing  into 
summer  would  have  filled  us  with  delight  had  we 
not  found  a  hostile  army  advancing  on  us — annual 
weeds.  When  we  planted  the  garden,  the  soil  was  brown  and 
clean.  The  early  vegetables  came  up  in  well-defined  green 
rows,  the  weeds  appearing  with  them,  too  few  and  scattered 
to  cause  anxiety.  Now  all  was  changed.  Weeds  seemed 
created  by  magic  in  a  night.  The  garden  was  becoming 
evenly  green  throughout;  and  the  vegetables,  in  some  cases, 
could*  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the  ranker  growth  of 
crowding,  unknown  plants  among  and  around  them.  I  also 
saw  that  our  corn  and  potato  field  would  soon  become,  if  left 
alone,  as  verdant  as  the  meadow  beyond.  I  began  to  fear 
that  we  could  not  cope  with  these  myriads  of  foes,  little  now, 
but  growing  while  we  slept,  and  stealing  a  march  on  us 
in  one  part  of  the  place  while  we  destroyed  them  in  another. 
With  something  like  dismay  I  called  Mr.  Jones's  at- 
tention to  these  silent  forces,  invading,  not  only  the  garden 
and  fields,  but  the  raspberries  and,  indeed,  all  the  ground 
now  devoted  to  fruit. 

He  laughed  and  said:  "The  Philistines  are  on  you, 
sure  enough.  Pm  busy  whackin'  them  over  myself,  but  I 
guess  I'll  have  to  come  and  give  you  a  lift,  for  you  must 
get  these  weeds  well  under  before  hayin'  and  raspberry- 
pickin'-time  comes.  It's  warm  to-day,  and  the  ground's  mid- 
dlin'  dry.  I'll  show  you  what  can  be  done  in  short  metre. 
By  the  way,  I'll  give  you  a  little  wrinkle  worth    knowin'. 


WEEDS  AND   WORKING  FOR  DEAR   LIFE  139 

IVe  observed  that  you  didn't  bring  the  children  to  the  coun- 
try to  be  like  weeds — just  ter  grow  and  run  ter  seed,  ye 
know.  It's  'stonishin'  how  soon  weeds,  whether  they're 
people  or  pusley,  get  seedy.  Well,  now,  call  the  children 
and  come  with  me  to  the  garden." 

We  were  all  soon  there,  including  my  wife,  who  shared 
my  solicitude. 

^^You  see,"  resumed  Mr.  Jones,  "that  these  weakly  little 
rows  of  carrots,  beets,  and  onions  would  soon  be  choked  by 
these  weeds,  not  an  inch  high  yet.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
corn  and  peas  and  other  sass.  The  pertaters  are  strong 
enough  to  take  care  of  themselves  for  a  time,  but  not  long. 
I  see  you  and  Merton  have  been  tryin'  to  weed  and  hoe  them 
out  at  the  same  time.  Well,  you  can't  keep  up  with  the 
work  in  that  way.  Take  now  this  bed  of  beets;  the  weeds  are 
gettin'  even  all  over  it,  and  they're  thicker,  if  anywhere, 
right  in  the  row,  so  that  it  takes  a  good  eye  to  see  the  beets. 
But  here  they  are,  and  here  they  run  across  the  bed.  Now 
look  at  me.  One  good  showin'  is  worth  all  the  tellin'  and 
readin'  from  now  to  Christmas.  '  You  see,  I  begin  with  my 
two  hands,  and  pull  out  all  the  weeds  on  each  side  of  the 
little  row,  and  I  pull  'em  away  from  the  young  beets  so  as 
not  to  disturb  them,  but  to  leave  'em  standin'  straight  and 
saucy.  Careless  hands  will  half  pull  out  the  vegetables  at 
the  same  time  with  the  weeds.  I  had  to  strap  Junior  once 
before  he  learned  that  fact,  and  it  was  amazin'  how  I  helped 
his  eyesight  and  trained  his  fingers  through  his  back.  Well, 
now,  you  see,  I've  cleared  out  this  row  of  beets  half  across 
the  bed  and  the  ground  for  an  inch  or  two  on  each  side  of  it. 
I  drop  the  weeds  right  down  in  the  spaces  between  the  rows, 
for  the  sun  will  dry  'em  up  before  dinner-time.  Now  I'll 
take  another  row." 

By  this  time  Merton  and  I  were  following  his  example, 
and  in  a  few  moments  a  part  of  three  more  rows  had  been 
treated  in  the  same  way. 

"Now,"  continued  Mr.  Jones,  "the  weeds  are  all  out  of 
the  rows  that  we've  done,  and  for  a  little  space  on  each  side 


140  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

of  'em.  The  beets  have  a  chance  to  grow  unchoked,  and  to 
get  ahead.  These  other  little  green  varmints  in  the  ground, 
between  the  rows,  are  too  small  to  do  any  harm  yet.  Prac- 
tically the  beets  are  cleaned  out,  and  will  have  all  the  ground 
they  need  to  themselves  for  three  or  four  days;  but  these 
weeds  between  the  rows  would  soon  swamp  everything. 
JSTow,  give  me  a  hoe,  and  I'll  fix  them. " 

He  drew  the  useful  tool  carefully  and  evenly  through 
the  spaces  between  the  rows,  and  our  enemies  were  lying  on 
their  sides  ready  to  wither  away  in  the  morning  sun. 

"You  see  after  the  rows  are  weeded  out  how  quickly 
you  can  hoe  the  spaces  between  'em,"  my  neighbor  con- 
cluded. "Now  the  children  can  do  this  weedin'.  Your  and 
Morton's  time's  too  valyble.  When  weeds  are  pulled  from 
right  in  and  around  vegetables,  the  rest  can  stand  without 
harm  for  a  while,  till  you  can  get  around  with  the  hoe  and 
cultivator.  This  weedin'  out  business  is  'specially  impor- 
tant in  rainy  weather,  for  it  only  hurts  ground  to  hoe  or  work 
it  in  wet,  showery  days,  and  the  weeds  don't  mind  it  a  bit. 
Warm,  sunny  spells,  when  the  soil's  a  little  dry,  is  the  time 
to  kill  weeds.  But  you  must  be  careful  in  weedin'  then, 
or  you'll  so  disturb  the  young,  tender  sass  that  it'll  dry  up, 
too.  See,  I'll  pull  some  weeds  carelessly.  Now  obsarve  that 
the  beets  are  half  jerked  up  also.  Of  course  that  won't  an- 
swer. I'll  come  over  this  afternoon  with  my  cultivator, 
and  we'll  tackle  the  corn  and  pertaters,  and  make  such  a 
swath  among  these  green  Philistines  that  you'll  sleep  better 
to-night.  But  ye're  goin'  to  come  out  right,  mind,  I  tell  ye 
so;  and  I've  seen  mor'n  one  city  squash  come  to  the  country 
with  the  idee  that  they  were  goin'  to  beat  us  punkins  all 
holler." 

And  he  left  us  laughing  and  hopeful. 

"Come,  Winnie  and  Bobsey,  begin  here  on  each  side  of 
me.  I'll  show  you  this  morning  and  then  I  trust  you  can  be 
left  to  do  the  weeding  carefully  by  yourselves  to-morrow. 
Pressing  as  the  work  is,  you  shall  have  your  afternoons  until 
the  berries  are  ripe." 


WEEDS  AND   WORKING  FOR  DEAR   LIFE  141 

"Can't  I  help,  too  V  asked  Mousie. 

I  looked  into  her  eager,  wistful  face,  but  said,  firmly: 
"IsTot  now,  dear.  The  sun  is  too  hot.  Toward  night,  per- 
haps, I'll  let  you  do  a  little.  By  helping  mamma  in  the 
house  you  are  doing  your  part." 

We  made  good  progress,  and  the  two  younger  children 
speedily  learned  the  knack  of  working  carefully,  so  as  not 
to  disturb  the  little  vegetables.  I  soon  found  that  weeding 
was  back-aching  work  for  me,  and  therefore  "spelled"  myself 
by  hoeing  out  the  spaces  between  the  rows.  By  the  time 
the  music  of  the  dinner-bell  sounded,  hosts  of  our  enemies 
were  slain. 

Mr.  Jones,  true  to  his  promise,  was  on  hand  at  one 
o'clock  with  his  cultivator,  and  began  with  the  corn,  which 
was  now  a  few  inches  high.  Merton  and  I  followed  with 
hoes,  uncovering  the  tender  shoots  on  which  earth  had  been 
thrown,  and  dressing  out  the  soil  into  clean  flat  hills.  As 
our  neighbor  had  said,  it  was  astonishing  how  much  work 
the  horse-cultivator  performed  in  a  short  time.  I  saw  that 
it  would  be  wise  for  us,  another  year,  to  plant  in  a  way  that 
would  permit  the  use  of  horse-power.  Even  in  the  garden 
this  method  should  be  followed  as  far  as  possible. 

Mr.  Jones  was  not  a  man  of  half-way  measures.  He 
remained  helping  us,  till  he  had  gone  through  the  corn,  once 
each  way,  twice  between  the  long  rows  of  potatoes,  then  twice 
through  all  the  raspberry  rows,  giving  us  two  full  days  of 
his  time  altogether. 

I  handed  him  a  dollar  in  addition  to  his  charge,  saying 
that  I  had  never  paid  out  money  with  greater  satisfaction. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  a  short,  dry  laugh,  "I'll  take  it 
this  time,  for  my  work  is  sufferin'  at  home,  but  I  didn't 
want  you  to  get  discouraged.  Now,  keep  the  hoes  flyin', 
and  you're  ahead  once  more.  Junior's  at  it  early  and  late, 
I  can  tell  ye." 

"So  I  supposed,  for  we've  missed  him." 

"Good  reason.  When  I'm  through  with  him  he^s  ready 
enough  to  crawl  into  his  little  bed." 


142  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

So  were  we  for  a  few  days,  in  our  winning  fight  with 
the  weeds.  One  hot  afternoon,  about  three  o'clock,  I  saw 
that  Merton  was  growing  pale,  and  beginning  to  lag,  and  I 
said,  decidedly:  ^'Do  you  see  that  tree  there?  Go  and  lie 
down  under  it  till  I  call  you/' 

^^I  guess  I  can  stand  it  till  night,''  he  began,  his  pride 
a  little  touched. 

"Obey  orders!     I  am  captain." 

In  five  minutes  he  was  fast  asleep.  I  threw  my  coat 
over  him,  and  sat  down,  proposing  to  have  a  half-hour's 
rest  myself.  My  wife  came  out  with  a  pitcher  of  cool  but- 
ter-milk and  nodded  her  head  approvingly  at  us. 

''Well,  my  thoughtful  Eve,"  I  said,  "I  find  that  our 
modern  Eden  will  cost  a  great  many  back-aches." 

"If  you  will  only  be  prudent  like  this,  you  may  save 
me  a  heart-ache.  Eobert,  you  are  ambitious,  and  unused  to 
this  kind  of  work.  Please  don't  ever  be  so  foolish  as  to  for- 
get the  comparative  value  of  vegetables  and  yourselves. 
Honestly  now"  (with  one  of  her  saucy  looks),  "I'd  rather  do 
with  a  few  bushels  less,  than  do  without  you  and  Merton;" 
and  she  sat  down  and  kept  me  idle  for  an  hour. 

Then  Merton  got  up,  saying  that  he  felt  as  "fresh  as  if 
he  had  had  a  night's  rest,"  and  we  accomplished  more  in  the 
cool  of  the  day  than  if  we  had  kept  doggedly  at  work. 

I  found  that  Winnie  and  Bobsey  required  rather  different 
treatment.  For  a  while  they  got  on  very  well,  but  one  morn- 
ing I  set  them  at  a  bed  of  parsnips  about  which  I  was  par- 
ticular. In  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  I  went  to  the  garden 
to  see  how  they  were  getting  on.  Shouts  of  laughter  made 
me  fear  that  all  was  not  well,  and  I  soon  discovered  that  they 
were  throwing  lumps  of  earth  at  each  other.  So  absorbed 
were  they  in  their  untimely  and  mischievous  fun  that  I  was 
not  noticed  until  I  found  Bobsey  sitting  plump  on  the  vege- 
tables, and  the  rows  behind  both  the  children  very  shabbily 
cleaned,  not  a  few  of  the  little  plants  having  been  pulled  up 
with  the  weeds. 

Without  a  word  I  marched  thjBm  into  the  house,  then 


WEEDS  AND   WORKING  FOR  DEAR    LIFE  143 

said:  "Under  arrest  till  night.  Winnie,  you  go  to  your 
room.  I  shall  strap  Bobsey  in  his  chair,  and  put  him  in  the 
parlor  by  himself." 

The  exchange  of  the  hot  garden  for  the  cool  rooms  seemed 
rather  an  agreeable  punishment  at  first,  although  Winnie 
felt  the  disgrace  somewhat.  When,  at  dinner,  nothing  but 
a  cup  of  water  and  a  piece  of  dry  bread  was  taken  to  them, 
Bobsey  began  to  howl,  and  Winnie  to  look  as  if  the  affair 
was  growing  serious.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  she  found 
that  she  was  not  to  gather  the  eggs  or  feed  her  beloved 
chickens,  she,  too,  broke  down  and  sobbed  that  she  "wouldn't 
do  so  any  more.''  Bobsey  also  pleaded  so  piteously  for 
release,  and  promised  such  saint-like  behavior,  that  I  said: 
"Well,  I  will  remit  the  rest  of  your  punishment  and  put  you 
on  trial.  You  had  no  excuse  for  your  mischief  this  morn- 
ing, for  I  allow  you  to  play  the  greater  p^rt  of  every  after- 
noon, while  Merton  must  stand  by  me  the  whole  of  the 
week." 

My  touch  of  discipline  brought  up  the  morale  of  my  little 
squad  effectually  for  a  time.  The  next  afternoon  even  the 
memory  of  trouble  was  banished  by  the  finding  of  the  first 
wild  strawberries.  Exultation  and  universal  interest  pre- 
vailed as  clusters  of  green  and  red  berries  were  handed 
around  to  be  smelled  and  examined.  "Truly,"  my  wife  re- 
marked, "even  roses  can  scarcely  equal  the  fragrance  of  the 
wild  strawberry." 

From  that  day  forward,  for  weeks,  it  seemed  as  if  we 
entered  on  a  diet  of  strawberries  and  roses.  The  old-fash- 
ioned bushes  of  the  latter,  near  the  house,  had  been  well 
trimmed,  and  gave  large,  fine  buds  in  consequence,  while 
Mousie,  Winnie,  and  Bobsey  gleaned  every  wild  berry  that 
could  be  found,  beginning  with  the  sunny  upland  slopes 
and  following  the  aromatic  fruit  down  to  the  cool,  moist 
borders  of  the  creek. 

"Another  year,"  I  said,  "I  think  you  will  be  tired  even  of 
strawberries,  for  we  shall  have  to  pick  early  and  late." 


144  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

NATURE    SMILES    AND    HELPS 

THE  Saturday  evening  which  brought  us  almost  to  the 
middle  of  June  was  welcomed  indeed.  The  days 
preceding  had  been  filled  with  hard,  yet  successful 
labor,  and  the  weeds  had  been  slaughtered  by  the  million. 
The  greater  part  of  our  crops  had  come  up  well  and  were 
growing  nicely.  In  hoeing  the  corn,  we  had  planted  over 
the  few  missing  hills,  and  now,  like  soldiers  who  had  won 
the  first  great  success  of  the  campaign,  we  were  in  a  mood  to 
enjoy  a  rest  to  the  utmost. 

This  rest  seemed  all  the  more  delightful  when  we  awoke 
on  the  following  morning,  to  the  soft  patter  of  rain.  The 
preceding  days  had  been  unusually  dry  and  warm,  so  that 
the  grass  and  tender  vegetables  were  beginning  to  suffer.  I 
was  worrying  about  the  raspberries  also,  which  were  passing 
out  of  blossom.  The  cultivator  had  been  through  them, 
and  Merton  and  I,  only  the  evening  before,  had  finished 
hoeing  out  the  sprouting  weeds  and  surplus  suckers.  I 
had  observed,  with  dread,  that  just  as  the  fruit  was  forming, 
the  earth,  especially  around  the  hills,  was  getting  dry. 

Now,  looking  out,  I  saw  that  the  needful  watering  was 
not  coming  from  a  passing  shower.  The  clouds  were  leaden 
from  horizon  to  horizon;  the  rain  fell  with  a  gentle  steadi- 
ness of  a  quiet  summer  storm,  and  had  evidently  been  falling 
some  hours  already.  The  air  was  so  fragrant  that  I  threw 
wide  open  the  door  and  windows.  It  was  a  true  June  in- 
cense, such  as  no  art  could  distil,  and  when,  at  last,  we  all 
sat  down  to  breakfast,  of  which  crisp  radishes  taken  a  few 


NATURE   SMILES   AND    HELPS  145 

moments  before  from  our  own  garden  formed  a  part,  we 
felt  that  nature  was  carrying  on  our  work  of  the  past  week 
in  a  way  that  filled  our  hearts  with  gratitude.  The  air  was 
so  warm  that  we  did  not  fear  the  dampness.  The  door  and 
windows  were  left  open  that  we  might  enjoy  the  delicious 
odors  and  listen  to  the  musical  patter  of  the  rain,  which  fell 
so  softly  that  the  birds  were  quite  as  tuneful  as  on  other 
days. 

The  children  joined  me  in  the  porch,  and  my  wife  came 
out  laughing,  and  put  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  as  she  said, 
^^You  are  not  through  with  July  and  August  yet." 

Mousie  held  her  hands  out  in  the  warm  rain,  saying :  "I 
feel  as  if  it  would  make  me  grow,  too.  Look  at  the  green 
cherries  up  there,  bobbing  as  the  drops  hit  them." 

"Rain  isn't  good  for  chickens,"  Winnie  remarked,  doubt- 
fully. 

"It  won't  hurt  them,"  I  replied,  "for  I  have  fed  them 
so  well  that  they  needn't  go  out  in  the  wet  for  food." 

The  clouds  gave  us  a  more  and  more  copious  downfall  as 
the  day  advanced,  and  I  sat  on  the  porch,  resting  and  ob- 
serving with  conscious  gratitude  how  beautifully  nature  was 
furthering  all  our  labor,  and  fulfilling  our  hopes.  This  rain 
would  greatly  increase  the  hay-crops  for  the  old  horse  and 
tlie  cow;  it  would  carry  my  vegetables  rapidly  toward  matur- 
ity; and,  best  of  all,  would  soak  the  raspberry  ground  so 
thoroughly  that  the  fruit  would  be  almost  safe.  What  was 
true  of  our  little  plot  was  equally  so  of  neighbor  Jones's 
farm,  and  thousands  of  others.  My  wife  sat  with  me  much 
of  the  day,  and  I  truly  think  that  our  thoughts  were  accept- 
able worship.  By  four  in  the  afternoon  the  western  horizon 
lightened,  the  clouds  soon  broke  away,  and  the  sun  shone 
out  briefly  in  undiminished  splendor,  turning  the  countless 
raindrops  on  foliage  and  grass  into  gems,  literally,  of  the 
purest  water.  The  bird-songs  seemed  almost  ecstatic,  and  the 
voices  of  the  children,  permitted  at  last  to  go  out  of  doors, 
vied  with  them  in  gladness. 

"Let  July  and  August — ^yes,  and  bleak  January — bring 


146  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

what  they  may/'  I  said  to  my  wife,  "nevertheless,  this  is 
Eden/' 

In  spite  of  the  muddy  walks,  we  picked  our  way  around 
the  garden,  exclaiming  in  pleased  wonder  at  the  growth 
made  by  our  vegetable  nurslings  in  a  few  brief  hours,  while, 
across,  the  field,  the  corn  and  potato  rows  showed  green, 
strong  outlines. 

I  found  that  Brindle  in  the  pasture  hadn't  minded  the 
rain,  but  only  appeared  the  sleeker  for  it.  When  at  last  I 
came  in  to  supper,  I  gave  my  wife  a  handful  of  berries,  at 
which  she  and  the  children  exclaimed.  I  had  permitted  a 
dozen  plants  of  each  variety  of  my  garden  strawberries  to 
bear,  that  I  might  get  some  idea  of  the  fruit.  The  blos- 
soms on  the  other  plants  had  been  picked  off  as  soon  as  they 
appeared,  so  that  all  the  strength  might  go  toward  forming 
new  plants.  I  found  that  a  few  of  the  berries  of  the  two 
early  kinds  were  ripe,  also  that  the  robins  had  been  sampling 
them.  In  size,  at  least,  they  seemed  wonderful  compared 
with  the  wild  fruit  from  the  field,  and  I  said : 

"There  will  be  lively  times  for  us  when  we  must  get  a 
dozen  bushels  a  day,  like  these,  off  to  Mr.  Bogart." 

The  children,  then,  thought  it  would  be  the  greatest  fun 
in  the  world.  By  the  time  supper  was  over,  Mr.  Jones  and 
Junior  appeared,  and  my  neighbor  said  in  hearty  good- will : 

"You  got  your  cultivatin'  done  in  the  nick  of  time,  Mr. 
Durham.  This  rain  is  a  good  hundred  dollars  in  your  pocket 
and  mine,  too." 

I  soon  perceived  that  our  enemies,  the  weeds,  had  mil- 
lions in  reserve,  and  on  Monday — the  day  after  the  rain — 
with  all  the  children  helping,  even  Mousie  part  of  the  time, 
we  went  at  the  garden  again.  To  Mousie,  scarcely  an  invalid 
any  longer,  was  given  the  pleasure  of  picking  the  first  green 
peas  and  shelling  them  for  dinner.  We  had  long  been  en- 
joying the  succulent  lettuce  and  the  radishes,  and  now  I  said 
to  Winnie:  "To-morrow  you  can  begin  thinning  out  the 
beets,  leaving  the  plants  three  inches  apart.  What  you 
pull  up  can  be  cooked  as  spinach,  or  'greens/  as  country 


NATURE   SMILES    AND   HELPS  147 

people  say.  Our  garden  will  soon  enable  us  to  live  like 
princes.'^ 

As  the  ground  dried  after  the  rain,  a  light  crust  formed  on 
the  surface,  and  in  the  wetter  portions  it  was  even  inclined 
to  bake  or  crack.  I  was  surprised  at  the  almost  magical 
effect  of  breaking  up  the  crust  and  making  the  soil  loose 
and  mellow  by  cultivation.  The  letting  in  of  air  and  light 
caused  the  plants  to  grow  with  wonderful  vigor. 

On  Wednesday  morning  Merton  came  running  in,  ex- 
claiming, "O  papa !  there's  a  green  worm  eating  all  the  leaves 
off  the  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes.'' 

I  followed  him  hastily,  and  found  that  considerable  mis- 
chief had  already  been  done,  and  I  went  to  one  of  my  fruit 
books  in  a  hurry  to  find  out  how  to  cope  with  this  new 
enemy. 

As  a  result,  I  said:  "Merton,  mamma  wishes  to  go  to 
the  village.  You  drive  her  and  Mousie  down,  and  at  the 
drug-store  get  two  pounds  of  white  hellebore,  also  a  pound 
of  Paris  green,  for  I  find  that  the  potato  bugs  are  getting 
too  thick  to  be  managed  by  hand.  Kemember  that  these 
are  poisons,  the  Paris  green  a  deadly  one.  Have  them  care- 
fully wrapped  up,  and  keep  them  from  everything  else. 
"When  you  return  I'll  take  charge  of  them.  Also,  get  a  new 
large  watering-can." 

That  afternoon  I  mixed  a  heaping  tablespoonful  of  the 
hellebore  through  the  contents  of  the  watering-can,  on  which 
I  had  painted  the  word  "Poison."  With  this  infusion  I 
sprinkled  thoroughly  every  bush  on  which  I  could  find  a 
worm,  and  the  next  morning  we  had  the  pleasure  of  find- 
ing most  of  these  enemies  dead.  But  some  escaped  or  new 
ones  were  hatched,  and  we  found  that  we  could  save  our  cur- 
rants only  by  constant  vigilance.  Every  evening,  until  the 
fruit  was  nearly  ripe,  we  went  over  the  bushes,  and  gave  the 
vile  little  pests  a  dose  wherever  we  found  them.  Our  other 
can  I  also  labelled  "Poison,"  with  dashes  under  it  to  show 
that  it  was  to  be  used  for  Paris  green  alone.  A  teaspoonf ul 
of  this  deadly  agent  was  enough,  according  to  my  book,  for 


148  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

the  amount  of  water  held  by  the  ordinary  wooden  pail.  I 
kept  this  poison  out  of  Bobsey's  reach,  and,  indeed,  where 
no  one  but  myself  could  get  at  it,  and,  by  its  aid,  destroyed 
the  potato  beetles  and  their  larvae  also.  Whatever  may  be 
true  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  in  our  region,  certainly, 
success  can  be  secured  only  by  prompt,  intelligent  effort. 


CHERRIES,   BERRIES,   AND  BERRY-THIEVES         149 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

CHERRIES,    BERRIES,    AND    BERRY-THIEVE3 

AN  evening  or  two  after  this  we  were  taught  that  not 
even  in  our  retired  nook  had  we  escaped  the  dangers 
of  city  life.  Winnie  and  Bobsey,in  their  rambles  after 
strawberries,  had  met  two  other  children,  and,  early  in  the 
acquaintance,  fortunately  brought  them  to  the  house.  The 
moment  I  saw  the  strange  girl,  I  recognized  a  rural  type 
of  Melissa  Daggett,  while  the  urchin  of  Bobsey's  age  did  not 
scruple  to  use  vile  language  in  my  hearing.  I  doubt  whether 
the  poor  little  savage  had  any  better  vernacular.  I  told  them 
kindly  but  firmly  that  they  must  not  come  on  the  place 
again  without  my  permission. 

After  supper  I  went  over  and  asked  Mr.  Jones  about 
these  children,  and  he  replied,  significantly,  looking  around 
first  to  make  sure  that  no  one  heard  him : 

"Mr.  Durham,  steer  clear  of  those  people.  You  know 
there  are  certain  varmints  on  a  farm  to  which  we  give  a 
wide  berth  and  kill  'em  when  we  can.  Of  course  we  can't 
kill  off  this  family,  although  a  good  contribution  could  be 
taken  up  any  day  to  move  'em  a  hundred  miles  away.  Still 
about  everybody  gives  'em  a  wide  berth,  and  is  civil  to  their 
faces.  They'll  rob  you  more  or  less,  and  you  might  as  well 
make  up  your  mind  to  it,  and  let  'em  alone," 

"Suppose  I  don't  let  them  alone?" 

"Well — remember,  now,  this  is  wholly  between  our- 
selves— there's  been  barns  burned  around  here.  Every- 
body's satisfied  who  sot  'em  afire,  but  nothin'  can  be  proved. 


150  DRIVEN    BACK    TO   EDEN 

Your  cow  or  horse,  too,  might  suddenly  die.  There's  no 
tellin'  what  accidents  would  happen  if  you  got  their  ill-will." 

"I  can't  take  the  course  you  suggest  toward  this  family," 
I  said,  after  a  little  thought.  "It  seems  to  me  wrong  on  both 
sides.  On  one  hand,  they  are  treated  as  outlaws,  and  that 
would  go  far  to  make  ihem  such ;  on  the  other,  they  are  per- 
mitted to  levy  a  sort  of  blackmail  and  commit  crime  with 
impunity.  Of  course  I  must  keep  my  children  away  from 
them ;  but,  if  the  chance  offers,  I  shall  show  the  family  kind- 
ness, and  if  they  molest  me  I  shall  try  to  give  them  the  law 
to  the  utmost." 

"Well,"  concluded  Mr.  Jones,  with  a  shrug,  "I've  warned 
you,  if  they  git  down  on  yer,  yer'll  find  'em  snakes  in  the 
grass." 

Eeturning  home,  I  said  nothing  to  Winnie  and  Bobsey 
against  their  recent  companions,  but  told  them  that  if  they 
went  with,  them  again,  or  made  the  acquaintance  of  other 
strangers  without  permission,  they  would  be  put  on  bread 
and  water  for  an  entire  day — that  all  such  action  was  posi- 
tively forbidden. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  the  Melissa  Daggett  ele- 
ment was  present  in  the  country,  and  in  an  aggravated  form. 
That  it  was  not  next  door,  or,  rather,  in  the  next  room,  was 
the  redeeming  feature.  Residents  in  the  country  are  usu- 
ally separated  by  wide  spaces  from  evil  association. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  my  wife  and  children  had 
no  society  except  that  afforded  by  Mr.  Jones's  family.  They 
were  gradually  making  pleasant  and  useful  acquaintances, 
especially  among  those  whom  we  met  at  church;  but  as 
these  people  have  no  material  part  in  this  simple  history, 
they  are  not  mentioned. 

The  most  important  activities  of  the  season  were  now 
drawing  very  near.  The  cherries  were  swelling  fast;  the 
currants  were  growing  red,  and  were  already  pronounced 
"nice  for  pies;"  and  one  morning  Merton  came  rushing  in 
with  a  red  raspberry  from  the  Highland  Hardy  variety.  I 
was  glad  the  time  was  at  hand  when  I  should  begin  to  re- 


CHERRIES,   BERRIESy  AND  BERRY-THIEVES        151 

ceive  something  besides  advice  from  Mr.  Bogart;  for,  care- 
ful as  we  had  been,  the  drain  on  my  capital  had  been  long 
and  steady,  and  were  eager  for  the  turn  of  the  tide. 

I  had  bought  a  number  of  old  Mr.  Jamison's  crates,  had 
painted  out  his  name  and  replaced  it  with  mine.  I  now 
wrote  to  Mr.  Bogart  for  packages  best  adapted  to  the  ship- 
ping of  cherries,  currants,  and  raspberries.  For  the  first  he 
sent  me  baskets  that  held  about  a  peck.  These  baskets  were 
so  cheap  that  they  could  be  sold  with  the  fruit.  For  cur- 
rants, crates  containing  twenty-four  quart  baskets  were 
forwarded.  These,  he  wrote,  would  also  do  for  black-caps 
this  season,  and  for  strawberries  next  year.  For  the  red 
raspberries  he  sent  me  quite  different  crates,  filled  with  lit- 
tle baskets  holding  only  half  a  pint  of  fruit.  Limited  sup- 
plies of  these  packages  were  sent,  for  he  said  that  a  telegram 
would  bring  more  the  same  day. 

The  corn  and  potatoes  were  becoming  weedy  again. 
This  time  I  made  use  of  a  light  plow,  Merton  leading  old 
Bay  as  at  first.  Then,  with  our  hoes,  we  gave  the  rows  a 
final  dressing  out.  By  the  time  we  had  finished,  some  of  our 
grass  was  fit  to  cut,  the  raspberries  needed  a  careful  picking 
over,  and  the  cherries  on  one  tree  were  ready  for  market. 
The  children  and  robins  had  already  feasted,  but  I  was 
hungry  for  a  check  from  !N^ew  York. 

I  had  long  since  decided  not  to  attempt  to  carry  on  hay- 
ing alone  at  this  critical  season,  but  had  hired  a  man,  too  aged 
to  hold  his  own  among  the  harvesters  on  the  neighboring 
farms.  Mr.  Jones  had  said  of  him:  "He's  a  careful,  trusty 
old  fellow,  who  can  do  a  good  day's  work  yet  if  you  don't 
hurry  him.  Most  of  your  grass  is  in  the  meadow,  some 
parts  fit  to  cut  before  the  others.  Let  the  old  man  begin 
and  mow  what  he  can,  every  day.  Then  you  won't  have  to 
cure  and  get  in  a  great  lot  of  hay  all  at  once,  and  perhaps, 
too,  when  your  raspberries  most  need  pickin'." 

So,  during  the  last  days  of  June,  old  Mr.  Jacox,  who 
came  at  moderate  wages,  put  in  his  scythe  on  the  uplands. 
I  spread  the  grass  and  raked  it  up  when  dry,  and,  with  the 

Roe— IX— V 


152  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

aid  of  Merton  and  a  rude,  extemporized  rack  on  the  market- 
wagon,  got  the  hay  gradually  into  the  barn.  This  labor 
took  only  part  of  the  day;  the  rest  of  the  time  was  employed 
in  the  garden  and  in  picking  fruit. 

On  the  last  day  of  June  we  gathered  a  crate  of  early 
raspberries  and  eight  baskets  of  cherries.  In  the  cool  of 
the  afternoon,  these  were  placed  in  the  wagon,  and  with  my 
wife  and  the  three  younger  children,  I  drove  to  the  Maize- 
ville  Landing  with  our  first  shipment  to  Mr.  Bogart. 

"We  are  ^p'oducers,'  at  last,  as  Bobsey  said,''  I  cried, 
joyously.  "And  I  trust  that  this  small  beginning  will  end 
in  such  big  loads  as  will  leave  us  no  room  for  wife  and  chil- 
dren, but  will  eventually  give  them  a  carriage  to  ride  in." 

Merton  remained  on  guard  to  watch  our  precious  ripen- 
ing fruit. 

After  our  departure  he  began  a  vigilant  patrol  of  the 
place,  feeling  much  like  a  sentinel  left  on  guard.  About 
sun-down,  he  told  me,  as  he  was  passing  through  the  rasp- 
berry field,  he  thought  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  an  old  straw 
hat  dodging  down  behind  the  bushes.  He  bounded  toward 
the  spot,  a  moment  later  confronting  three  children  with  tin 
pails.  The  two  younger  proved  to  be  Winnie's  objection- 
able acquaintances  that  I  had  told  to  keep  off  the  place. 
The  eldest  was  a  boy,  not  far  from  Merton's  age,  and  had 
justly  won  the  name  of  being  the  worst  boy  in  the  region. 
All  were  the  children  of  the  dangerous  neighbor  against 
whom  Mr.  Jones  had  warned  me. 

The  boy  at  first  regarded  Merton  with  a  sullen,  defiant 
look,  while  his  brother  and  sister  coolly  continued  to  steal 
the  fruit. 

"Clear  out,"  cried  Merton.  "We'll  have  you  put  in  jail 
if  you  come  here  again." 

"You  shut  up  and  clear  out  yerself,"  said  the  boy, 
threateningly,  "or  I'll  break  yer  head.  Yer  pap's  away, 
and  we  ain't  afraid  of  you.  What's  more,  we're  goin'  ter 
have  some  cherries  before — " 

Now  Merton  had  a  quick  temper,  and  at  this  moment 


CHERRIES,   BERRIES,  AND  BERRY-THIEVES        153 

sprang  at  the  fellow  who  was  adding  insult  to  injury,  so 
quickly  that  he  got  in  a  blow  that  blackened  one  of  the 
thief's  eyes. 

Then  they  clinched,  and,  although  his  antagonist  was  the 
heavier,  Merton  thinks  he  could  have  whipped  him  had  not 
the  two  younger  marauders  attacked  him,  tooth  and  nail, 
like  cats.  Finding  himself  getting  the  worst  of  it,  he  in- 
stinctively sent  out  a  cry  for  his  stanch  friend  Junior. 

Fortunately,  this  ally  was  coming  along  the  road  toward 
our  house,  and  he  gave  an  answering  halloo. 

The  vagrants,  apparently,  had  a  wholesome  fear  of  John 
Jones,  junior,  for,  on  hearing  his  voice,  they  beat  a  hurried 
retreat;  but  knowing  that  no  one  was  at  the  house,  and  in 
the  spirit  of  revengeful  mischief,  they  took  their  flight  in 
that  direction.  Seeing  Mousie's  flower-bed,  they  ran  and 
jumped  upon  that,  breaking  down  half  the  plants,  then 
dashed  off  through  the  coops,  releasing  the  hens,  and  scatter- 
ing the  broods  of  chickens.  Merton  and  Junior,  who  for 
a  few  moments  had  lost  sight  of  the  invaders  in  the  thick 
raspberry  bushes,  were  now  in  hot  pursuit,  and  would  have 
caught  them  again,  had  they  not  seen  a  man  coming  up  the 
lane,  accompanied  by  a  big  dog.  Junior  laid  a  hand  on 
headlong  Merton,  whose  blood  was  now  at  boiling  heat,  and 
said,  "Stop." 


154  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

GIVEN      HIS      CHOICE 

JUNIOR  had  good  reason  for  bringing  Merton  to  a  sud- 
den halt  in  his  impetuous  and  hostile  advance.  The 
man  coming  up  the  lane,  with  a  savage  dog,  was  the 
father  of  the  ill-nurtured  children.  He  had  felt  a  little  un- 
easy as  to  the  results  of  their  raid  upon  our  fruit,  and  had 
walked  across  the  fields  to  give  them  the  encouragement  of 
his  presence,  or  to  cover  their  retreat,  which  he  now  did 
effectually. 

It  took  Junior  but  a  moment  to  explain  to  my  boy  that 
they  were  no  match  "for  the  two  brutes,"  as  he  expressed 
himself,  adding,  "The  man  is  worse  than  the  dog." 

Merton,  however,  was  almost  reckless  from  anger  and  a 
sense  of  unprovoked  wrong,  and  he  darted  into  the  house  for 
his  gun. 

"See  here,  Merton,"  said  Junior,  firmly,  "shoot  the  dog 
if  they  set  him  on  us,  but  never  fire  at  a  human  being. 
You'd  better  give  me  the  gun;  I  am  cooler  than  you  are." 

They  had  no  occasion  to  use  the  weapon,  however.  The 
man  shook  his  fist  at  them,  while  his  children  indulged  in 
taunts  and  coarse  derision.  The  dog,  sharing  their  spirit 
and  not  their  discretion,  started  for  the  boys,  but  was  re- 
called, and  our  undesirable  neighbors  departed  leisurely. 

(All  this  was  related  to  me  after  nightfall,  when  I  re- 
turned with  my  wife  and  younger  children  from  the  Maize- 
ville  Landing.  I  confess  that  I  fully  shared  Merton's  an- 
ger, although  I  listened  quietly. 

"You  grow  white,  Robert,  when  you  are  angry,"  said 


GIVEN  HIS   CHOICE  155 

my  wife.  "I  suppose  that's  the  most  dangerous  kind  of 
heat — white-heat.  Don't  take  the  matter  so  to  heart.  We 
can't  risk  getting  the  ill-will  of  these  ugly  people.  You 
know  what  Mr.  Jones  said  about  them." 

"This  question  shall  be  settled  in  twenty-four  hours!" 
I  replied.  "That  man  and  his  family  are  the  pest  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  everyone  lives  in  a  sort  of  abject  dread 
of  them.  Now,  the  neighbors  must  say  'yes'  or  'no'  to  the 
question  whether  we  shall  have  decency,  law,  and  order,  or 
not.  Merton,  unharness  the  horse.  Junior,  come  with  me ; 
I'm  going  to  see  your  father." 

I  found  Mr.  Jones  sleepy  and  about  to  retire,  but  his 
blue  eyes  were  soon  wide  open,  with  an  angry  fire  in  them. 

"You  take  the  matter  very  quietly,  Mr.  Durham;"  he 
said;  "more  quietly  than  I  could." 

"I  shall  not  fume  about  the  affair  a  moment.  I  prefer 
to  act.  The  only  question  for  you  and  the  other  neighbors 
to  decide  is,  Will  you  act  with  me  ?  I  am  going  to  this  man 
Bagley's  house  to-morrow,  to  give  him  his  choice.  It's 
either  decency  and  law-abiding  on  his  part,  now,  or  prose- 
cution before  the  law  on  mine.  You  say  that  you  are  sure 
that  he  has  burned  barns,  and  made  himself  generally  the 
terror  of  the  region.  Now,  I  won't  live  in  a  neighborhood 
infested  by  people  little  better  than  wild  Indians.  My  feel- 
ings as  a  man  will  not  permit  me  to  submit  to  insult  and  in- 
jury. What's  more,  it's  time  the  people  about  here  abated 
this  nuisance." 

"You  are  right,  Robert  Durham!"  said  Mr.  Jones, 
springing  up  and  giving  me  his  hand.  "I've  felt  mean,  and 
so  have  others,  that  we've  allowed  ourselves  to  be  run  over 
by  this  rapscallion.  If  you  go  to-morrow,  I'll  go  with  you, 
and  90  will  Rollins.  His  hen-roost  was  robbed  t'other 
night,  and  he  tracked  the  thieves  straight  toward  Bagley's 
house.  He  says  his  patience  has  given  out.  It  only  needs 
a  leader  to  rouse  the  neighborhood,  but  it  ain't  very  credit- 
able to  us  that  we  let  a  new-comer  like  you  face  the  thing 
first." 


156  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "it's  for  you  and  your  neighbors  to 
show  now  how  much  grit  and  manhood  you  have.  I  shall 
start  for  Bagley's  house  at  nine  to-morrow.  Of  course  I 
shall  be  glad  to  have  company,  and  if  he  sees  that  the  people 
will  not  stand  any  more  of  his  rascality,  he'll  be  more  apt 
to  behave  himself  or  else  clear  out." 

"He'll  have  to  do  one  or  the  other,"  said  Mr.  Jones, 
grimly.  "I'll  go  right  down  to  KoUins's.  Come,  Junior, 
we  may  want  you." 

At  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning,  a  dozen  men,  includ- 
ing the  constable,  were  in  our  yard.  My  wife  whispered, 
"Do  be  prudent,  Robert."  She  was  much  reassured,  how- 
ever, by  the  largeness  of  our  force. 

We  soon  reached  the  dilapidated  hovel,  and  were  so  for- 
tunate as  to  find  Bagley  and  all  his  family  at  home.  Al- 
though it  was  the  busiest  season,  he  was  idle.  As  I  led  my 
forces  straight  toward  the  door,  it  was  evident  that  he  was 
surprised  and  disconcerted,  in  spite  of  his  attempt  to  main- 
tain a  sullen  and  defiant  aspect.  I  saw  his  evil  eye  resting 
on  one  and  another  of  our  group,  as  if  he  was  storing  up 
grudges  to  be  well  paid  on  future  dark  nights.  His  eldest 
son  stood  with  the  dog  at  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  as  I 
approached,  the  cur,  set  on  by  the  boy,  came  toward  me 
with  a  stealthy  step.  I  carried  a  heavy  cane,  and  just  as 
the  brute  was  about  to  take  me  by  the  leg,  I  struck  him  a 
blow  on  the  head  that  sent  him  howling  away. 

The  man  for  a  moment  acted  almost  as  if  he  had  been 
struck  himself.  His  bloated  visage  became  inflamed,  and 
he  sprang  toward  me. 

"Stop!"  I  thundered.  My  neighbors  closed  around  me, 
and  he  instinctively  drew  back. 

"Bagley,"  I  cried,  "look  me  in  the  eye."  And  he  fixed 
upon  me  a  gaze  full  of  impotent  anger.  "N^ow,"  I  resumed, 
"I  wish  you  and  your  family  to  understand  that  you've  come 
to  the  end  of  your  rope.  You  must  become  decent,  law- 
abiding  people,  like  the  rest  of  us,  or  we  shall  put  you  where 
you  can't  harm  us.     I,  for  one,  am  going  to  give  you  a  last 


GIVEN  HIS   CHOICE  157 

chance.  Your  children  were  stealing  my  fruit  last  night,  and 
acting  shamefully  afterward.  You  also  trespassed,  and  you 
threatened  these  two  boys;  you  are  idle  in  the  busiest  time, 
and  think  you  can  live  by  plunder.  N'ow,  you  and  yours 
must  turn  the  sharpest  corner  you  ever  saw.  Your  two 
eldest  children  can  come  and  pick  berries  for  me  at  the 
usual  wages,  if  they  obey  my  orders  and  behave  themselves. 
One  of  the  neighbors  here  says  he'll  give  you  work,  if  you 
try  to  do  it  well.  If  you  accept  these  terms,  I'll  let  the 
past  go.  If  you  don't,  I'll  have  the  constable  arrest  your 
boy  at  once,  and  I'll  see  that  he  gets  the  heaviest  sentence 
the  law  allows,  while  if  you  or  your  children  make  any 
further  trouble,  I'll  meet  you  promptly  in  every  way  the 
law  permits.  But,  little  as  you  deserve  it,  I  am  going  to 
give  you  and  your  family  one  chance  to  reform,  before  pro- 
ceeding against  you.  Only  understand  one  thing,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  you.     I've  had  my  say." 

"I  haven't  had  mine,"  said  KoUins,  stepping  forward 
excitedly.  "You,  or  your  scapegrace  boy  there,  robbed  my 
hen-roost  the  other  night,  and  you've  robbed  it  before. 
There  isn't  a  man  in  this  region  but  believes  that  it  was 
you  who  burned  the  barns  and  hay-stacks.  We  won't  stand 
this  nonsense  another  hour.  You've  got  to  come  to  my  hay- 
fields  and  work  out  the  price  of  those  chickens,  and  after 
that  I'll  give  you  fair  wages.  But  if  there's  any  more 
trouble,  we'll  clean  you  out  as  we  would  a  family  of 
weasels." 

"Yes,  neighbor  Bagley,"  added  Mr.  Jones,  in  his  dry, 
caustic  way,  "think  soberly.  I  hope  you  are  sober.  I'm 
not  one  of  the  threatenin',  barkin'  sort,  but  I've  reached 
the  p'int  where  I'll  bite.  The  law  will  protect  us,  an'  the 
hull  neighborhood  has  resolved,  with  Mr.  Durham  here, 
that  you  and  your  children  shall  make  no  more  trouble  than 
he  and  his  children.     See?" 

"Look-a-here,"  began  the  man,  blusteringly,  "you  needn't 
come  threatenin'  in  this  blood-and-thunder  style.  The  law'll 
protect  me  as  well  as — " 


168  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

Ominous  murnmrs  were  arising  from  all  my  neighbors, 
and  Mr.  Jones  now  came  out  strong. 

"JSTeighbors/'  he  said,  "keep  cool.  The  time  to  act  hasn't 
come  jet.  See  here,  Bagley,  it's  hayin'  and  harvest.  Our 
time's  vallyble,  whether  yours  is  or  not.  You  kin  have 
just  three  minutes  to  decide  whether  you'll  take  your  oath 
to  stop  your  maraudin'  and  that  of  your  children;"  and  he 
pulled  out  his  watch. 

"Let  me  add  my  word,"  said  a  little  man,  stepping  for- 
ward. "I  own  this  house,  and  the  rent  is  long  overdue. 
Follow  neighbor  Jones's  advice  or  we'll  see  that  the  sheriff 
puts  your  traps  out  in  the  middle  of  the  road." 

"Oh,  of  course,''  began  Bagley.  "What  kin  one  feller 
do  against  a  crowd?" 

"Sw'ar,  as  I  told  you,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  sharply  and  em- 
phatically. "What  do  you  mean  by  hangin'  fire  so  ?  Do 
you  s'pose  this  is  child's  play  and  make-believe?  Don't  ye 
know  that  when  quiet,  peaceable  neighbors  git  riled  up  to 
our  pitch,  they  mean  what  they  say?  Sw'ar,  as  I  said, 
and  be  mighty  sudden  about  it." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  added  his  wife,  who  stood  trembling 
behind  him.     "Can't  you  see  ?" 

"Very  well,  I  sw'ar  it,"  said  the  man,  in  some  trepidation. 

"I^ow,  Bagley,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  putting  back  his  watch, 
"we  want  to  convert  you  thoroughly  this  mornin'.  The  first 
bit  of  mischief  that  takes  place  in  this  borough  will  bring  the 
weight  of  the  law  on  you ;"  and,  wheeling  on  his  heel,  he  left 
the  yard,  followed  by  the  others. 


GIVEN  A    CHANGE  169 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

GIVEN   A   CHANCE 

^^  /'•^  OME  in,  Mr.  Bagley/'  I  said,  "and  bring  the  chil- 
I  dren.     I  want  to  talk  with  you  all.     Merton,  you 

V-^      go  home  with  Junior." 

''But,  papa — ''  he  objected. 

"Do  as  I  bid  you,"  I  said,  firmly,  and  I  entered  the 
squalid  abode. 

The  man  and  the  children  followed  me  wonderingly. 
I  sat  down  and  looked  the  man  steadily  in  the  eye  for  a 
moment. 

"Let  us  settle  one  thing  first,"  I  began.  "Do  you  think 
I  am  afraid  of  you  ?" 

"'S'pose  not,  with  sich  backin'  as  yer  got,"  was  the  some- 
what nervous  reply. 

"I  told  Mr.  Jones  after  I  came  home  last  night  that  I 
should  fight  this  thing  alone  if  no  one  stood  by  me.  But 
you  see  that  your  neighbors  have  reached  the  limit  of  for- 
bearance. INTow,  Mr.  Bagley,  I  didn't  remain  to  threaten 
you.  There  has  been  enough  of  that,  and  from  very  reso- 
lute, angry  men,  too.  I  wish  to  give  you  and  yours  a 
chance.  You've  come  to  a  place  where  two  roads  branch; 
you  must  take  one  or  the  other.  You  can't  help  yourself. 
You  and  your  children  won't  be  allowed  to  steal  or  prowl 
about  any  more.  That's  settled.  If  you  go  away  and  begin 
the  same  wretched  life  elsewhere,  you'll  soon  reach  the  same 
result ;  you  and  your  son  will  be  lodged  in  .jail  and  put  at 
hard  labor.  Would  you  not  better  make  up  your  mind  to 
work  for  yourself  and  family,  like  an  honest  man  ?     Look  at 


160  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

these  children.  How  are  you  bringing  them  up? —  Take 
the  road  to  the  right.  Do  your  level  best,  and  I'll  help  you. 
I'll  let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  aid  you  in  becoming  a 
respectable  citizen." 

"Oh,  Hank,  do  be  a  man,  now  that  Mr.  Durham  gives 
you  a  chance,"  sobbed  his  wife;  "you  know  we've  been  liv- 
ing badly." 

"That's  it,  Bagley.  These  are  the  questions  you  must 
decide.  If  you'll  try  to  be  a  man,  I'll  give  you  my  hand  to 
stand  by  you.  My  religion,  such  as  it  is,  requires  that  I 
shall  not  let  a  man  go  wrong  if  I  can  help  it.  If  you'll  take 
the  road  to  the  right  and  do  your  level  best,  there's  my 
hand." 

The  man  showed  his  emotion  by  a  slight  tremor  only, 
and  after  a  moment's  thoughtful  hesitation  he  took  my  hand 
and  said,  in  a  hoarse,  choking  voice :  "You've  got  a  claim  on 
me  now  which  all  the  rest  couldn't  git,  even  if  they  put  a 
rope  around  my  neck.  I  s'pose  I  have  lived  like  a  brute, 
but  I've  been  treated  like  one,  too." 

"If  you'll  do  as  I  say,  I'll  guarantee  that  within  six  months 
you'll  be  receiving  all  the  kindness  that  a  self-respecting  man 
wants,"  I  answered. 

Then,  turning  to  his  wife,  I  asked,  "What  have  you  in 
the  house  to  eat?" 

"Next  to  nothin',"  she  said,  drying  her  eyes  with  her 
apron,  and  then  throwing  open  their  bare  cupboard. 

"Put  on  your  coat,  Bagley,  and  come  with  me,"  I  said. 

He  and  his  wife  began  to  be  profuse  with  thanks. 

"No,  no!"  I  said,  firmly.  "I'm  not  going  to  give  you 
a  penny's  worth  of  anything  while  you-^re  able  to  earn  a 
living.  You  shall  have  food  at  once ;  but  I  shall  expect  you  to 
pay  for  it  in  work.  I  am  going  to  treat  you  like  a  man  and 
a  woman,  and  not  like  beggars."  ' 

A  few  minutes  later,  some  of  the  neighbors  were  much 
surprised  to  see  Bagley  and  myself  going  up  the  road  to- 
gether. 


GIVEN  A    CHANCE  161 

My  wife,  Merton,  and  tender-hearted  Mousie  were  at 
the  head  of  the  lane  watching  for  me.  Keassured,  as  we 
approached,  they  returned  wonderingly  to  the  house,  and 
met  us  at  the  door. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Durham,'*  I  said.  "My  dear,  please  give 
Mr.  Bagley  ten  pounds  of  flour  and  a  piece  of  pork.  After 
youVe  had  your  dinner,  Mr.  Bagley,  I  shall  expect  you,  as 
we've  agreed.  And  if  you'll  chain  up  that  dog  of  yours, 
or,  better  still,  knock  it  on  the  head  with  an  axe,  Mrs.  Dur- 
ham will  go  down  and  see  your  wife  about  fixing  up  your 
children." 

Winifred  gave  me  a  pleased,  intelligent  look,  and  said, 
"Come  in,  Mr.  Bagley;"  while  Merton  and  I  hastened  away 
to  catch  up  with  neglected  work. 

"Your  husband's  been  good  to  me,"  said  the  man,  ab- 
ruptly. 

"That's  because  he  believes  you  are  going  to  be  good  to 
yourself  and  your  family,"  was  her  smiling  reply. 

"Will  you  come  and  see  my  wife  ?"  he  asked. 

"Certainly,  if  I  don't  have  to  face  your  dog,"  replied 
Winifred. 

"I'll  kill  the  critter  soon's  I  go  home,"  muttered  Bagley. 

"It  hardly  pays  to  keep  a  big,  useless  dog,"  was  my  wife's 
practical  comment. 

In  going  to  the  cellar  for  the  meat,  she  left  him  alone 
for  a  moment  or  two  with  Mousie;  and  he,  under  his  new 
impulses,  said :  "Little  gal,  ef  my  children  hurt  your  flowers 
agin,  let  me  know,  and  I'll  thrash  'em !" 

The  child  stole  to  his  side  and  gave  him  her  hand,  as 
she  replied,  "Try  being  kind  to  them." 

Bagley  went  home  with  some  new  ideas  under  his  tattered 
old  hat.  At  half-past  twelve  he  was  on  hand,  ready  for 
work. 

"That  dog  that  tried  to  bite  ye  is  dead  and  buried,"  he 
said,  "and  I  hope  I  buried  some  of  my  dog  natur'  with  'im," 

"You've  shown  your  good  sense.  But  I  haven't  time  to 
talk  now.     The  old  man  has  mown  a  good  deal  of  grass. 


DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

I  want  you  to  shake  it  out,  and,  as  soon  as  he  says  it's  dry 
enough,  to  rake  it  up.  Toward  night  I'll  be  out  with  the 
wagon,  and  we'll  stow  all  that's  fit  into  the  barn.  To-morrow 
I  want  your  two  eldest  children  to  come  and  pick  berries." 

"I'm  in  fer  it,  Mr.  Durham.  You've  given  me  your 
hand,  and  I'll  show  yer  how  that  goes  furder  with  me  than 
all  the  blood-and-thunder  talk  in  Maizeville,"  said  Bagley, 
with  some  feeling. 

"Then  you'll  show  that  you  can  be  a  man  like  the  rest 
of  us,"  I  said,  as  I  hastened  to  our  early  dinner. 

My  wife  beamed  and  nodded  at  me.  "I'm  not  going  to 
say  anything  to  set  you  up  too  much,"  she  said.  "You  are 
great  on  problems,  and  you  are  solving  one  even  better  than 
I  hoped." 

"It  isn't  solved  yet,"  I  replied.  "We  have  only  started 
Bagley  and  his  people  on  the  right  road.  It  will  require 
much  patience  and  good  management  to  keep  them  there. 
I  rather  think  you'll  have  the  hardest  part  of  the  problem 
yet  on  your  hands.  I  have  little  time  for  problems  now, 
however,  except  that  of  making  the  most  of  this  season  of 
rapid  growth  and  harvest.  I  declare  I'm  almost  bewil- 
dered when  I  see  how  much  there  is  to  be  done  on  every 
side.  Children,  we  must  all  act  like  soldiers  in  the  middle  of 
a  fight.  Every  stroke  must  tell.  ISTow,  we'll  hold  a  council 
of  war,  so  as  to  make  the  most  of  the  afternoon's  work. 
Merton,  how  are  the  raspberries  ?" 

"There  are  more  ripe,  papa,  than  I  thought  there 
would  be." 

"Then,  Winnie,  you  and  Bobsey  must  leave  the  weeding 
in  the  garden  and  help  Merton  pick  berries  this  after- 
noon." 

"As  soon  as  it  gets  cooler,"  said  my  wife,  "Mousie  and 
I  are  going  to  pick,  also." 

"Very  well,"  I  agreed.  "You  can  give  us  raspberries 
and  milk  to-night,  and  so  you  will  be  getting  supper  at  the 
same  time.  Until  the  hay  is  ready  to  come  in,  I  shall  keep 
on  hoeing  in  the  garden,  the  weeds  grow  so  rapidly.     To- 


GIVEN   A    CHANCE  163 

morrow  will  be  a  regular  fruit  day  all  around,  for  there  are 
two  more  cherry-trees  that  need  picking." 

Our  short  nooning  over,  we  all  went  to  our  several  tasks. 
The  children  were  made  to  feel  that  now  was  the  chance  to 
win  our  bread  for  months  to  come,  and  that  there  must  be 
no  shirking.  Mousie  promised  to  clear  away  the  things 
while  my  wife,  protected  by  a  large  sun-shade,  walked  slowly 
down  to  the  Bagley  cottage.  Having  seen  that  Merton  and 
his  little  squad  were  filling  the  baskets  with  raspberries  prop- 
erly, I  went  to  the  garden  and  slaughtered  the  weeds  where 
they  threatened  to  do  the  most  harm. 

At  last  I  became  so  hot  and  wearied  that  I  thought  I 
would  visit  a  distant  part  of  the  upland  meadow,  and  see  how 
Bagley  was  progressing.  He  was  raking  manfully,  and  had 
accomplished  a  fair  amount  of  work,  but  it  was  evident  that 
he  was  almost  exhausted.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  hard 
work,  and  had  rendered  himself  still  more  unfit  for  it  by 
dissipation. 

"See  here,  Bagley,"  I  said,  "you  are  doing  well,  but  you 
will  have  to  break  yourself  into  harness  gradually.  I  don't 
wish  to  be  hard  upon  you.  Lie  down  under  this  tree  for  half 
an  hour,  and  by  that  time  I  shall  be  out  with  the  wagon." 

"Mr.  Durham,  you  have  the  feelin's  of  a  man  for  a  fel- 
ler," said  Bagley,  gratefully.  "I'll  make  up  the  time  arter 
it  gets  cooler." 

Keturning  to  the  raspberry  patch,  I  found  Bobsey  almost 
asleep,  the  berries  often  falling  from  his  nerveless  hands. 
Merton,  meanwhile,  with  something  of  the  spirit  of  a  mar- 
tinet, was  spurring  him  to  his  task.  I  remembered  that  the 
little  fellow  had  been  busy  since  breakfast,  and  decided  that 
he  also,  of  my  forces,  should  have  a  rest.  He  started  up 
when  he  saw  me  coming  through  the  bushes,  and  tried  to 
pick  with  vigor  again.  As  I  took  him  up  in  my  arms,  he 
began,  apprehensively,  "Papa,  I  will  pick  faster,  but  I'm  so 
tired!" 

I  reassured  him  with  a  kis&  which  left  a  decided  rasp- 


164  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

berry  flavor  on  my  lips,  carried  him  into  the  barn,  and, 
tossing  him  on  a  heap  of  hay,  said,  ^^Sleep  there,  my  little 
man,  till  you  are  rested/' 

He  was  soon  snoring  blissfully,  and  when  I  reached  the 
meadow  with  the  wagon,  Bagley  was  ready  to  help  with  the 
loading. 

"Well,  well!''  he  exclaimed,  "a  little  breathin'-spell  does 
do  a  feller  good  on  a  hot  day." 

"No  doubt  about  it,"  I  said.  "So  long  as  you  are  on  the 
right  road,  it  does  no  harm  to  sit  down  a  bit,  because  when 
you  start  again  it's  in  the  right  direction." 

After  we  had  piled  on  as  much  of  a  load  as  the  rude, 
extemporized  rack  on  my  market  wagon  could  hold,  I  added, 
"You  needn't  go  to  the  barn  with  me,  for  I  can  pitch  the  hay 
into  the  mow.     Kake  up  another  load,  if  you  feel  able." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right  now,"  he  protested. 

By  the  time  I  had  unloaded  the  hay,  I  found  that  my 
wife  and  Mousie  were  among  the  raspberries,  and  that  the 
number  of  full,  fragrant  little  baskets  was  increasing  rapidly. 

"Winifred,  isn't  this  work,  with  your  walk  to  the  Bagley 
cottage,  too  much  for  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  lightly.  "An  afternoon  in  idle- 
ness in  a  stifling  city  flat  would  'have  been  more  exhausting. 
It's  growing  cool  now.  What  wretched,  shiftless  people 
those  Bagleys  are!  But  I  have  hopes  of  them.  I'm  glad 
Bobsey's  having  a  nap." 

"You  shall  tell  me  about  your  visit  to-night.  We  are 
making  good  progress.  Bagley  is  doing  his  best.  Winnie," 
I  called,  "come  here." 

She  brought  her  basket,  nearly  filled,  and  I  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  heavy  with  weariness  also. 

"You've  done  well  to-day,  my  child.  Now  go  and  look 
after  your  chickens,  big  and  little.  Then  your  day's  work 
is  done,  and  you  can  do  what  you  please;"  and  I  started  for 
the  meadow  again. 

By  six  o'clock,  we  had  in  the  barn  three  loads  of  hay, 


GIVEN   A    CHANCE  165 

and  Merton  had  packed  four  crates  of  berries  ready  for 
market.  ,  Bobsey  was  now  running  about,  as  lively  as  a 
cricket,  and  Winnie,  with  a  child's  elasticity,  was  nearly  as 
sportive.  Bagley,  after  making  up  his  half-hour,  came  up 
the  lane  with  a  rake,  instead  of  his  ugly  dog  as  on  the  even- 
ing before.  A  few  moments  later,  he  helped  me  lift  the 
crates  into  the  market  wagon;  and  then,  after  a  little  awk- 
ward hesitation,  began: 

"I  say,  Mr.  Durham,  can't  ye  give  a  feller  a  job  yerself  ? 
I  declar'  to  you,  I  want  to  brace  up ;  but  I  know  how  it'll 
be  down  at  Rollins's.  He'll  be  savage  as  a  meat-axe  to  me, 
and  his  men  will  be  a-gibin'.  Give  me  a  job  yerself,  and 
I'll  save  enough  out  o'  my  wages  to  pay  for  his  chickens,  or 
you  kin  keep  'nuff  back  to  pay  for  'em." 

I  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said,  promptly :  "I'll  agree 
to  this  if  Kollins  will.     I'll  see  him  to-night." 

"Did  yer  wife  go  to  see  my  wife?" 

"Yes,  and  she  says  she  has  hopes  of  you  all.  You've 
earned  your  bread  to-day  as  honestly  as  I  have,  and  you've 
more  than  paid  for  what  my  wife  gave  you  this  morning. 
Here's  a  quarter  to  make  the  day  square,  and  here's  a  couple 
of  baskets  of  raspberries  left  over.  Take  them  to  the  chil- 
dren." 

"Well,  yer  bring  me  right  to  the  mark,"  he  said,  em- 
phasizing his  words  with  a  slap  on  his  thigh.  "I've  got  an 
uphill  row  to  hoe,  and  it's  good  ter  have  some  human  crit- 
ters around  that'll  help  a  feller  a  bit." 

I  laughed  as  I  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  said: 
"You're  going  to  win  the  fight,  Bagley.  I'll  see  Rollins  at 
once,  for  I  find  I  shall  need  another  man  awhile." 

"Give  me  the  job  then,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "and  give  me 
what  you  think  I'm  wuth;"  and  he  jogged  off  home  with 
that  leaven  of  all  good  in  his  heart — ^the  hope  of  better  things. 


166  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTEE  XXXV 


RASPBEKKIES  and  milk,  with  bread  and  butter  and 
a  cup  of  tea,  made  a  supper  that  we  all  relished, 
and  then  Merton  and  I  started  for  the  boat-landing. 
I  let  the  boy  drive  and  deliver  the  crates  to  the  freight 
agent,  for  I  wished  him  to  relieve  me  of  this  task  occasion- 
ally. On  our  way  to  the  landing  I  saw  Rollins,  who  readily 
agreed  to  Bagley's  wish,  on  condition  that  I  guaranteed  pay- 
ment for  the  chickens.  Stopping  at  the  man's  cottage  fur- 
ther on,  I  told  him  this,  and  he,  in  his  emphatic  way,  de- 
clared: "I  vow  ter  you,  Mr.  Durham,  ye  shan't  lose  a 
feather's  worth  o'  the  chickens." 

Returning  home,  poor  Merton  was  so  tired  and  drowsy 
that  he  nearly  fell  off  the  seat.  Before  long  I  took  the  reins 
from  his  hands,  and  he  was  asleep  with  his  head  on  my 
shoulder.  Winifred  was  dozing  in  her  chair,  but  bright- 
ened up  as  we  came  in.  A  little  judicious  praise  and  a  bowl 
of  bread  and  milk  strengthened  the  boy  wonderfully.  He 
saw  the  need  of  especial  effort  at  this  time,  and  also  saw  that 
he  was  not  being  driven  unfeelingly. 

As  I  sat  alone  with  my  wife,  resting  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore retiring,  I  said:  "Well,  Winifred,  it  must  be  plain  to 
you  by  this  time  that  the  summer  campaign  will  be  a  hard 
one.     How  are  we  going  to  stand  it  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  next  fall,"  she  replied,  with  a  laugh.  "No 
problems  to-night,  thank  you." 

"I'm  gathering  a  queer  lot  of  helpers  in  my  effort  to 
live  in  the  country,"  I  continued.     "There's  old  Mr.  Jacox, 


*'WE   SHALL    ALL   EARN    OUR   SALT''  167 

who  is  too  aged  to  hold  his  own  in  other  harvest-fields.  Bag- 
ley  and  his  tribe — " 

"And  a  city  wife  and  a  lot  of  city  children,"  she  added. 

"And  a  city  greenhorn  of  a  man  at  the  head  of  you  all/' 
I  concluded. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  rising  with  an  odd  little  blending 
of  laugh  and  yawn,  "I'in  not  afraid  but  that  we  shall  all  earn 
our  salt." 

Thus  came  to  an  end  the  long,  eventful  day,  which  pre- 
pared the  way  for  many  others  of  similar  character,  and 
suggested  many  of  the  conditions  of  our  problem  of  country 
living. 

Bagley  appeared  bright  and  early  the  following  morning 
with  his  two  elder  children,  and  I  was  now  confronted  with 
the  task  of  managing  them  and  making  them  useful.  Upon 
one  thing  I  was  certainly  resolved — there  should  be  no  quix- 
otic sentiment  in  our  relations,  and  no  companionship  be- 
tween his  children  and  mine. 

Therefore,  I  took  him  and  his  girl  and  boy  aside,  and 
said:  "I'm  going  to  be  simple  and  outspoken  with  you. 
Some  of  my  neighbors  think  I'm  a  fool  because  I  give  you 
work  when  I  can  get  others.  I  shall  prove  that  I  am  not 
a  fool,  for  the  reason  that  I  shall  not  permit  any  nonsense, 
and  you  can  show  that  I  am  not  a  fool  by  doing  your  work 
well  and  quietly.  Bagley,  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
your  children  do  not  come  here  to  play  with  mine.  'No  mat- 
ter whom  I  employed,  I  should  keep  my  children  by  them- 
selves.    Xow,  do  you  understand  this?" 

They  nodded  affirmatively. 

"Are  you  all  willing  to  take  simple,  straightforward  di- 
rections, and  do  your  best  ?  I'm  not  asking  what  is  unreason- 
able, for  I  shall  not  be  more  strict  with  youjhan  with  my 
own  children." 

"No  use  o'  beatin'  around  the  bush,  Mr.  Durham,"  said 
Bagley,  good-naturedly;  "we've  come  here  to  'arn  our  livin', 
and  to  do  as  you  say." 


168  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

^'I  can  get  along  with  you,  Bagley,  but  your  children 
will  find  it  hard  to  follow  my  rules,  because  they  are  children, 
and  are  not  used  to  restraint.  Yet  they  must  do  it,  or 
therein  be  trouble  at  once.  They  must  work  quietly  and 
steadily  while  they  do  work,  and  when  I  am  through  with 
them,  they  must  go  straight  home.  They  mustn't  lounge 
about  the  place.  If  they  will  obey,  Mrs.  Durham  and  I  will 
be  good  friends  to  them,  and  by  fall  we  will  fix  them  up  so 
that  they  can  go  to  school.'' 

The  little  arabs  looked  askance  at  me  and  made  me  think 
of  two  wild  animals  that  had  been  caught,  and  were  intelligent 
enough  to  understand  that  they  must  be  tamed.  They  were 
submissive,  but  made  no  false  pretences  of  enjoying  the 
prospect. 

"I  shall  keep  a  gad  handy,"  said  their  father,  with  a 
significant  nod  at  them. 

^^Well,  youngsters,"  I  concluded,  laughing,  ^^perhaps 
you'll  need  it  occasionally.  I  hope  not,  however.  I  shall 
keep  no  gad,  but  I  shall  have  an  eye  on  you  when  you  least 
expect  it;  and  if  you  go  through  the  picking-season  well,  I 
shall  have  a  nice  present  for  you  both.  Now,  you  are  to 
receive  so  much  a  basket,  if  the  baskets  are  properly  filled, 
and  therefore  it  will  depend  on  yourselves  how  much  you 
earn.  You  shall  be  paid  every  day.  So  now  for  a  good 
start  toward  becoming  a  man  and  a  woman." 

I  led  them  to  one  side  of  the  raspberry  patch  and  put 
them  under  Merton's  charge  saying,  ^'You  must  pick  exactly 
as  he  directs." 

Winnie  and  Bobsey  were  to  pick  in  another  part  of  the 
field,  Mousie  aiding  until  the  sun  grew  too  warm  for  the 
delicate  child.  Bagley  was  to  divide  his  time  between  hoe- 
ing in  the  garden  and  spreading  the  grass  after  the  scythe  of 
old  Mr.  Jacox.  From  my  ladder  against  a  cherry-tree,  I  was 
able  to  keep  a  general  outlook  over  my  motley  forces,  and 
we  all  made  good  progress  till  dinner,  which,  like  the  help 
we  employed,  we  now  had  at  twelve  o'clock.     Bagley  and 


*'WE   SHALL   ALL    EARN   OUR   SALT**  169 

his  children  sat  down  to  their  lunch  under  the  shade  of  an 
apple-tree  at  Some  distance,  yet  in  plain  view  through  our 
open  door.  Their  repast  must  have  been  meagre,  judging 
from  the  time  in  which  it  was  despatched,  and  my  wife  said, 
"Can't  I  send  them  something  V^ 

"Certainly;  what  have  you  to  send?" 
-       "Well,   Tve  made   a  cherry  pudding;   I   don't  suppose 
there  is  much  more  than  enough  for  us,  though." 

"Children,"  I  cried,  "let's  take  a  vote.  Shall  we  share 
our  cherry  pudding  with  the  Bagleys?" 

"Yes,"  came  the  unanimous  reply,  although  Bobsey's 
voice  was  rather  faint. 

Merton  carried  the  delicacy  to  the  group  under  the  tree, 
and  it  was  gratefully  and  speedily  devoured. 

"That  is  the  way  to  the  hearts  of  those  children,"  said 
my  wife,  at  the  same  time  slyly  slipping  her  portion  of  the 
pudding  upon  Bobsey's  plate. 

I  appeared  very  blind,  but  asked  her  to  get  me  some- 
thing from  the  kitchen.  While  she  was  gone,  I  exchanged 
my  plate  of  pudding,  untouched  as  yet,  for  hers,  and  gave  the 
children  a  wink.  We  all  had  a  great  laugh  over  mamma's 
well-assumed  surprise  and  perplexity.  How  a  little  fun  will 
freshen  up  children,  especially  when,  from  necessity,  their 
tasks  are  long  and  heavy ! 

We  were  startled  from  the  table  by  a  low  mutter  of 
thunder.  Hastening  out,  I  saw  an  ominous  cloud  in  the 
west.  My  first  thought  was  that  all  should  go  to  the  rasp- 
berries and  pick  till  the  rain  drove  us  in;  but  Bagley  now 
proved  a  useful  friend,  for  he  shambled  up  and  said:  "If  I 
was  you,  I'd  have  those  cherries  picked  fust.  You'll  find 
that  a  thunder-shower'll  rot  'em  in  one  night.  The  wet 
won't  hurt  the  berries  much." 

His  words  reminded  me  of  what  I  had  seen  when  a  boy — 
a  tree  full  of  split,  half -decayed  cherries — and  I  told  him  to 
go  to  picking  at  once.  I  also  sent  his  eldest  boy  and  Merton 
into  the  trees.     Old  Jacox  was  told  to  get  the  grass  he  had 


170  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

cut  into  as  good  shape  as  possible  before  the  shower.  My 
wife  and  Mousie  left  the  table  standing,  and,  hastening  to  the 
raspberry  field,  helped  Winnie  and  Bobsey  and  the  other 
Bagley  child  to  pick  the  ripest  berries.  We  all  worked  like 
beavers  till  the  vivid  flashes  and  great  drops  drove  us  to 
shelter. 

Fortunately,  the  shower  came  up  slowly,  and  we  nearly 
stripped  the  cherry-trees,  carrying  the  fruit  into  the  house, 
there  to  be  arranged  for  market  in  the  neat  peck-baskets 
with  coarse  bagging  covers  which  Mr.  Bogart  had  sent  me. 
The  little  baskets  of  raspberries  almost  covered  the  barn 
floor  by  the  time  the  rain  began,  but  they  were  safe.  At 
first,  the  children  were  almost  terrified  by  the  vivid  light- 
ning, but  this  phase  of  the  storm  soon  passed,  and  the  clouds 
seemed  to  settle  down  for  a  steady  rain. 

"'Tisn't  goin'  to  let  up,"  said  Bagley,  after  a  while. 
^^We  might  as  well  jog  home  now  as  any  time." 

^^But  you'll  get  wet/'  I  objected. 

^^It  won't  be  the  fust  time,"  answered  Bagley.  ^^The 
children  don't  mind  it  any  more'n  ducks." 

^'Well,  let's  settle,  then,"  I  said.  ^^You  need  some 
money  to  buy  food  at  once." 

^^I  reckon  I  do,"  was  the  earnest  reply. 

^There's  a  dollar  for  your  day's  work,  and  here  is  what 
your  children  have  earned.     Are  you  satisfied?"  I  asked. 

"I  be,  and  I  thank  you,  sir.  I'll  go  down  to  the  store 
this  evenin',"  he  added. 

"And  buy  food  only,"  I  said,  with  a  meaning  look. 

"Flour  and  pork  only,  sir.  I've  given  you  my  hand 
on't;"  and  away  they  all  jogged  through  the  thick-falling 
drops. 

We  packed  our  fruit  for  market,  and  looked  vainly  for 
clearing  skies  in  the  west. 

"There's  no  help  for  it,"  I  said.  "The  sooner  I  start 
for  the  landing  the  better,  so  that  I  can  return  before  it 
becomes  very  dark." 


*'WE   SHALL    ALL   EARN   OUR   SALT"  171 

My  wife  exclaimed  against  this,  but  I  added:  "Think  a 
moment,  my  dear.  By  good  management  we  have  here,  safe 
and  in  good  order,  thirty  dollars'  worth  of  fruit,  at  least. 
Shall  I  lose  it  because  I  am  afraid  of  a  summer  shower? 
Facing  the  weather  is  a  part  of  my  business;  and  I'd  face  a 
storm  any  day  in  the  year  if  I  could  make  thirty  dollars. '^ 

Merton  wished  to  go  also,  but  I  said,  "No;  there  must 
be  no  risks  of  illness  that  can  possibly  be  avoided.'' 

I  did  not  find  it  a  dreary  expedition,  after  all,  for  I 
solaced  myself  with  thoughts  like  these,  "Thirty  dollars, 
under  my  wife's  good  management,  will  go  far  toward  pro- 
viding warm  winter  clothing,  or  paying  the  interest,  or 
something  else." 

Then  the  rain  was  just  what  was  needed  to  increase  and 
prolong  the  yield  of  the  raspberry  bushes,  on  which  there 
were  still  myriads  of  immature  berries  and  even  blossoms. 
Abundant  moisture  would  perfect  these  into  plump  fruit; 
and  upon  this  crop  rested  our  main  hope. 


172  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEE  XXXVI 

A    THUNDERBOLT 

FROM  the  experiences  just  related,  it  can  be  seen  how 
largely  the  stress  and  strain  of  the  year  centred  in 
the  month  of  July.  Nearly  all  our  garden  crops 
needed  attention;  the  grass  of  the  meadow  had  to  be  cured 
into  hay,  the  currants  and  cherries  to  be  picked,  and  fall 
crops,  like  winter  cabbages,  turnips,  and  celery,  to  be  put 
in  the  ground.  Of  the  latter  vegetable,  I  set  out  only  a  few 
short  rows,  regarding  it  as  a  delicious  luxury  to  which  not 
very  much  time  could  be  given. 

Mr.  Jones  and  Junior,  indeed  all  our  neighbors,  were 
working  early  and  late,  like  ourselves.  Barns  were  being 
filled,  conical  hay-stacks  were  rising  in  distant  meadows,  and 
every  one  was  busy  in  gathering  nature's  bounty. 

We  were  not  able  to  make  much  of  the  Fourth  of  July. 
Bobsey  and  Winnie  had  some  firecrackers,  and,  in  the  even- 
ing, Merton  and  Junior  set  off  a  few  rockets,  and  we  all  said, 
^^AhP'  appreciatively,  as  they  sped  their  brief  fiery  course; 
but  the  greater  part  of  the  day  had  to  be  spent  in  gathering 
the  ripening  black-caps  and  raspberries.  By  some  manage- 
ment, however,  I  arranged  that  Merton  and  Junior  should 
have  a  fine  swim  in  the  creek,  by  Brittle  Rock,  while  Mousie, 
Winnie,  and  Bobsey  waded  in  sandy  shallows,  further  down 
the  stream.  They  all  were  promised  holidays  after  the  fruit 
season  was  over,  and  they  submitted  to  the  necessity  of 
almost  constant  work  with  fairly  good  grace. 

The  results  of  our  labor  were  cheering.  Our  table 
was  supplied  with  delicious  vegetables,  which,  In  the  main. 


A    THUNDERBOLT  173 

it  was  Mousie's  task  to  gather  and  prepare.  The  children 
were  as  brown  as  little  Indians,  and  we  daily  thanked  God 
for  health.  Checks  from  Mr.  Bogart  came  regularly,  the 
fruit  bringing  a  fair  price  under  his  good  management.  The 
outlook  for  the  future  grew  brighter  with  the  beginning  of 
each  week ;  for  on  Monday  he  made  his  returns  and  sent  me 
the  proceeds  of  the  fruit  shipped  previously.  I  was  able  to 
pay  all  outstanding  accounts  for  what  had  been  bought  to 
stock  the  place,  and  I  also  induced  Mr.  Jones  to  receive  the 
interest  in  advance  on  the  mortgage  he  held.  Then  we  began 
to  hoard  for  winter. 

The  Bagleys  did  as  well  as  we  could  expect,  I  sup- 
pose. The  children  did  need  the  "gad"  occasionally  and  the 
father  indulged  in  a  few  idle,  surly,  drinking  days;  but, 
convinced  that  the  man  was  honestly  trying,  I  found  that  a 
little  tact  and  kindness  always  brought  him  around  to  renewed 
endeavor.  To  expect  immediate  reform  and  unvaried  well- 
doing would  be  asking  too  much  of  such  human  fiature  as 
theirs. 

As  July  drew  to  a  close,  my  wife  and  I  felt  that  we  were 
succeeding  better  than  we  had  had  reason  to  expect.  In  the 
height  of  the  season  we  had  to  employ  more  children  in 
gathering  the  raspberries,  and  I  saw  that  I  could  increase  the 
yield  in  coming  years,  as  I  learned  the  secrets  of  cultivation. 
I  also  decided  to  increase  the  area  of  this  fruit  by  a  fall- 
planting  of  some  varieties  that  ripened  earlier  and  later, 
thus  extending  the  season  and  giving  me  a  chance  to  ship 
to  market  for  weeks  instead  of  days.  My  strawberry  plants 
were  sending  out  a  fine  lot  of  new  runners,  and  our  hopes  for 
the  future  were  turning  largely  toward  the  cultivation  of 
this  delicious  fruit. 

Old  Jacox  had  plodded  faithfully  over  the  meadow  with 
his  scythe,  and  the  bam  was  now  so  well  filled  that  I  felt  our 
bay  horse  and  brindle  cow  were  provided  for  during  the 
months  when  fields  are  bare  or  snowy. 

Late  one  afternoon,  he  was  helping  me  gather  up  almost 
the  last  load  down  by  the  creek,  when  the  heavy  roll  of 


174  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

thunder  warned  ns  to  hasten.  As  we  came  up  to  the  high 
ground  near  the  house,  we  were  both  impressed  by  the  omi- 
nous blackness  of  a  cloud  rising  in  the  west.  I  felt  that  the 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  act  like  the  captain  of  a  vessel  before 
a  storm,  and  make  everything  "snug  and  tight."  The  load 
of  hay  was  run  in  upon  the  barn  floor,  and  the  old  horse 
led  with  the  harness  on  him  to  the  stall  below.  Bagley  and 
the  children,  with  old  Jacox,  were  started  off  so  as  to  be  at 
home  before  the  shower,  doors  and  windows  were  fastened, 
and  all  was  made  as  secure  as  possible. 

Then  we  gathered  in  our  sitting-room,  where  Mousie 
and  my  wife  had  prepared  supper;  but  we  all  were  too  op- 
pressed with  awe  of  the  coming  tempest  to  sit  down  quietly, 
as  usual.  There  was  a  death-like  stillness  in  the  sultry  air, 
broken  only  at  intervals  by  the  heavy  rumble  of  thunder. 
The  strange,  dim  twilight  soon  passed  into  the  murkiest 
gloom,  and  we  had  to  light  the  lamp  far  earlier  than  our 
usual  hour.  I  had  never  seen  the  children  so  affected 
before.  Winnie  and  Bobsey  even  began  to  cry  with  fear, 
while  Mousie  was  pale  and  trembling.  Of  course,  we 
laughed  at  them  and  tried  to  cheer  them ;  but  even  my  wife 
was  nervously  apprehensive,  and  I  admit  that  I  felt  a  dis- 
quietude hard  to  combat. 

Slowly  and  remorselessly  the  cloud  approached,  until  it 
began  to  pass  over  us.  The  thunder  and  lightning  were 
simply  terrific.  Supper  remained  untasted  on  the  table, 
and  I  said:  "Patience  and  courage!  A  few  moments  more 
and  the  worst  will  be  over!" 

But  my  words  were  scarcely  heard,  so  violent  was  the 
gust  that  burst  upon  us.  For  a  few  moments  it  seemed  as 
if  everything  would  go  down  before  it,  but  the  old  house 
only  shook  and  rocked  a  little. 

"Hurrah !"  I  cried.  "The  bulk  of  the  gust  has  gone  by, 
and  now  we  are  all  right !" 

At  that  instant  a  blinding  gleam  and  an  instantaneous 
crash  left  us  stunned  and  bewildered.  But  as  I  recovered 
my  senses,  I  saw  flames  bursting  from  the  roof  of  our  barn. 


RALLYING    FROM    THE   BLOW  175 


CHAPTEK  XXXVn 

RALLYING   FROM   THE   BLOW 

OUE.  house  was  far  enough  from  the  barn  to  prevent 
the  shock  of  the  thunderbolt  from  disabling  us  be- 
yond a  moment  or  two.  Merton  had  fallen  off  his 
chair,  but  was  on  his  feet  almost  instantly ;  the  other  children 
were  soon  sobbing  and  clinging  to  my  wife  and  myself. 

In  tones  that  I  sought  to  render  firm  and  quiet,  I  said: 
"No  more  of  this  foolish  fear.  We  are  in  God's  hands,  and 
He  will  take  care  of  us.  Winifred,  you  must  rally  and 
soothe  the  children,  while  Merton  and  I  go  out  and  save  what 
we  can.  All  danger  to  the  house  is  now  over,  for  the  worst 
of  the  storm  has  passed." 

In  a  moment  my  wife,  although  very  pale,  was  reassuring 
the  younger  children,  and  Merton  and  I  rushed  forth. 

"Lead  the  horse  out  of  the  barn  basement,  Merton,"  I 
cried,  "and  tie  him  securely  behind  the  house.  If  he  won't 
go  readily,  throw  a  blanket  over  his  eyes." 

I  spoke  these  words  as  we  ran  through  the  torrents  of 
rain  precipitated  by  the  tremendous  concussion  which  the 
lightning  had  produced. 

I  opened  the  barn  doors  and  saw  that  the  hay  was  on  fire. 
There  was  not  a  second  to  lose,  and  excitement  doubled  my 
strength.  The  load  of  hay  on  the  wagon  had  not  yet  caught. 
Although  nearly  stifled  with  sulphurous  smoke,  I  seized  the 
shafts  and  backed  the  wagon  with  its  burden  out  into  the 
rain.  Then,  seizing  a  fork,  I  pushed  and  tossed  off  the  load 
so  that  I  could  draw  our  useful  market  vehicle  to  a  safe 

Roe— IX— W 


176  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

distance.  There  were  a  number  of  crates  and  baskets  in  the 
barn,  also  some  tools,  etc.  These  I  had  to  let  go.  Hasten- 
ing to  the  basement,  I  found  that  Merton  had  succeeded  in 
getting  the  horse  away.  There  was  still  time  to  smash  the 
window  of  the  poultry-room  and  toss  the  chickens  out  of 
doors.     Our  cow,  fortunately,  was  in  the  meadow. 

By  this  time  Mr.  Jones  and  Junior  were  on  the  ground, 
and  they  were  soon  followed  by  Rollins,  Bagley,  and  others. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  now,  however,  but  to  stand  aloof 
and  witness  the  swift  destruction.  After  the  first  great  gust 
had  passed,  there  was  fortunately  but  little  wind,  and  the 
heavy  downpour  prevented  the  flames  from  spreading.  In 
this  we  stood,  scarcely  heeding  it  in  the  excitement  of  the 
hour.  After  a  few  moments  I  hastened  to  assure  my  trem- 
bling wife  and  crying  children  that  the  rain  made  the  house 
perfectly  safe,  and  that  they  were  in  no  danger  at  all.  Then 
I  called  to  the  neighbors  to  come  and  stand  under  the  porch- 
roof. 

From  this  point  we  could  see  the  great  pyramid  of  fire 
and  smoke  ascending  into  the  black  sky.  The  rain-drops 
glittered  like  fiery  hail  in  the  intense  light  and  the  still  vivid 
flashes  from  the  clouds. 

"This  is  hard  luck,  neighbor  Durham,''  said  Mr.  Jones, 
with  a  long  breath. 

"My  wife  and  children  are  safe,''  I  replied,  quietly. 

Then  we  heard  the  horse  neighing  and  tugging  at  his 
halter.  Bagley  had  the  good  sense  and  will  to  jerk  off  his 
coat,  tie  it  around  the  animal's  eyes,  and  lead  him  to  a  dis- 
tance from  the  fatal  fascination  of  the  flames. 

In  a  very  brief  space  of  time  the  whole  structure,  with 
my  summer  crop  of  hay,  gathered  with  so  much  labor,  sunk 
down  into  glowing,  hissing  embers.  I  was  glad  to  have  the 
ordeal  over,  and  to  be  relieved  from  fear  that  the  wind  would 
rise  again.  !N^ow  I  was  assured  of  the  extent  of  our  loss, 
as  well  as  of  its  certainty. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  warm-hearted  and  impulsive  Rol- 
lins, "when  you  are  ready  to  build  again,  your  neighbors  will 


RALLYING    FROM    THE   BLOW  177 

give  you  a  lift.  By  converting  Bagley  into  a  decent  fellow, 
you've  made  all  our  barns  safer,  and  v^e  owe  you  a  good  turn. 
He  was  worse  than  lightning.'' 

I  expressed  my  thanks,  adding,  "This  isn't  as  bad  as  you 
think;  I'm  insured." 

"Well,  now,  that's  sensible,"  said  Mr.  Jones.  "I'll  sleep 
better  for  that  fact,  and  so  will  you,  Kobert  Durham.  You'll 
make  a  go  of  it  here  yet." 

"I'm  not  in  the  least  discouraged,"  I  answered;  "far 
worse  things  might  have  happened.  I've  noticed  in  my 
paper  that  a  good  many  barns  have  been  struck  this  summer, 
so  my  experience  is  not  unusual.  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to 
meet  such  things  patiently  and  make  the  best  of  them.  As 
long  as  the  family  is  safe  and  well,  outside  matters  can  be 
remedied.  Thank  you,  Bagley,"  I  continued,  addressing 
him,  as  he  now  led  forward  the  horse.  "You  had  your  wits 
about  you.  Old  Bay  will  have  to  stand  under  the  shed  to- 
night." 

"Well,  Mr.  Durham,  the  harness  is  still  on  him,  all  'cept 
the  head-stall;  and  he's  quiet  now." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "in  our  haste  we  didn't  throw  off  the 
harness  before  the  shower,  and  it  has  turned  out  very  well." 

"Tell  ye  what  it  is,  neighbors,"  said  practical  Mr.  Jones; 
"'tisn't  too  late  for  Mr.  Durham  to  sow  a  big  lot  of  fodder 
corn,  and  that's  about  as  good  as  hay.  We'll  turn  to  and  help 
him  get  some  in." 

This  was  agreed  to  heartily,  and  one  after  another  they 
wrung  my  hand  and-  departed,  Bagley  jogging  in  a  compan- 
ionable way  down  the  road  with  Rollins,  whose  chickens  he 
had  stolen,  but  had  already  paid  for. 

I  looked  after  them  and  thought :  "Thank  Heaven  I  have 
not  lost  my  barn  as  some  thought  I  might  at  one  time !  As 
Rollins  suggested,  I'd  rather  take  my  chances  with  the  light- 
ning than  with  a  vicious  neighbor.  Bagley  acted  the  part  of 
a  good  friend  to-night." 

Then,  seeing  that  we  could  do  nothing  more,  Merton  and 
I  entered  the  house. 


178  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

I  clapped  the  boy  on  the  shoulder  as  I  said:  "You  acted 
like  a  man  in  the  emergency,  and  I'm  proud  of  you.  The 
bringing  out  a  young  fellow  strong  is  almost  worth  the  cost 
of  a  barn." 

My  wife  came  and  put  her  arm  around  my  neck  and  said : 

"You  bear  up  bravely,  Robert,  but  I  fear  you  are  dis- 
couraged at  heart.  To  think  of  such  a  loss,  just  as  we  were 
getting  started !''  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "it  will  be  a  heavy  loss  for  us,  and  a 
great  inconvenience,  but  it  might  have  been  so  much  worse ! 
All  sit  down  and  I'll  tell  you  something.  You  see  my  train- 
ing in  business  led  me  to  think  of  the  importance  of  insur- 
ance, and  to  know  the  best  companies.  As  soon  as  the 
property  became  yours,  Winifred,  I  insured  the  buildings  for 
nearly  all  they  were  worth.  The  hay  and  the  things  in  the 
barn  at  the  time  will  prove  a  total  loss;  but  it  is  a  loss  that 
we  can  stand  and  make  good  largely  before  winter.  I  tell  you 
honestly  that  we  have  no  reason  to  be  discouraged.  We 
shall  soon  have  a  better  barn  than  the  one  lost ;  for,  by  good 
planning,  a  better  one  can  be  built  for  the  money  that  I  shall 
receive.  So  we  will  thank  God  that  we  are  all  safe  ourselves, 
and  go  quietly  to  sleep." 

With  the  passing  of  the  storm,  the  children  had  become 
quiet,  and  soon  we  lost  in  slumber  all  thought  of  danger 
and  loss. 

In  the  morning  the  absence  of  the  barn  made  a  great  gap 
in  our  familiar  outlook,  and  brought  many  and  serious 
thoughts;  but  with  the  light  came  renewed  hopefulness. 
All  the  scene  was  flooded  with  glorious  sunlight,  and  only 
the  blackened  ruins  made  the  frightful  storm  of  the  previous 
evening  seem  possible.  Nearly  all  the  chickens  came  at  Win- 
nie's call,  looking  draggled  and  forlorn  indeed,  but  practi- 
cally unharmed,  and  ready  to  resume  their  wonted  cheerful- 
ness after  an  hour  in  the  sunshine.  We  fitted  up  for  them  the 
old  coop  in  the  orchard,  and  a  part  of  the  ancient  and  dilapi- 
dated barn  which  was  to  have  been  used  for  corn-stalks  only. 
The  drenching  rain  had  saved  this  and  the  adjoining  shed 


RALLYING   FROM    THE   BLOW  179 

from  destruction,  and  now  in  our  great  emergency  they 
proved  useful  indeed. 

The  trees  around  the  site  of  the  barn  were  blackened^ 
and  their  foliage  was  burned  to  a  crisp.  Within  the  stone 
foundations  the  smoke  from  the  still  smouldering  debris  rose 
sluggishly. 

I  turned  away  from  it  all,  saying :  "Let  us  worry  no  more 
over  that  spilled  milk.  Fortunately  the  greater  part  of  our 
crates  and  baskets  were  under  the  shed.  Take  the  children. 
Merton,  and  pick  over  the  raspberry  patches  carefully  once 
more,  while  I  go  to  work  in  the  garden.  That  has  been 
helped  rather  than  injured  by  the  storm,  and,  if  we  will  take 
care  of  it,  will  give  us  plenty  of  food  for  winter.  Work 
there  will  revive  my  spirits." 

The  ground  was  too  wet  for  the  use  of  the  hoe,  but 
there  was  plenty  of  weeding  to  be  done,  while  I  answered  the 
questions  of  neighbors  who  came  to  offer  their  sympathy.  I 
also  looked  around  to  see  what  could  be  sold,  feeling  the  need 
of  securing  every  dollar  possible.  I  found  much  that  was 
hopeful  and  promising.  The  Lima-bean  vines  had  covered 
the  poles,  and  toward  their  base  the  pods  were  filling  out. 
The  ears  on  our  early  corn  were  fit  to  pull;  the  beet^  and 
onions  had  attained  a  good  size;  the  early  peas  had  given 
place  to  turnips,  winter  cabbages,  and  celery;  there  were 
plenty  of  green  melons  on  the  vines,  and  more  cucumbers 
than  we  could  use.  The  remaining  pods  on  the  first  planting 
of  bush-beans  were  too  mature  for  use,  and  I  resolved  to  let 
them  stand  till  sufficiently  dry  to  be  gathered  and  spread  in 
the  attic.  All  that  we  had  planted  had  done,  or  was  doing, 
fairly  well,  for  the  season  had  been  moist  enough  to  ensure 
a  good  growth.  We  had  been  using  new  potatoes  since  the 
first  of  the  month,  and  now  the  vines  were  so  yellow  that  all 
in  the  garden  could  be  dug  at  once  and  sold.  They  would 
bring  in  some  ready  money,  and  I  learned  from  my  garden 
book  that  strap-leaved  turnips,  sown  on  the  cleared  spaces, 
would  have  time  to  mature. 

After  all,  my  strawberry  beds  gave  me  the  most  hope. 


180  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

There  were  hundreds  of  young  plants  already  rooted,  and 
still  more  lying  loosely  on  the  ground ;  so  I  spent  the  greater 
part  of  the  morning  in  weeding  these  out  and  pressing  the 
young  plants  on  the  ends  of  the  runners  into  the  moist  soil, 
having  learned  that  with  such  treatment  they  form  roots  and 
become  established  in  a  very  few  days. 

After  dinner  Mr.  Jones  appeared  with  his  team  and 
heavy  plow,  and  we  selected  an  acre  of  upland  meadow 
where  the  sod  was  light  and  thin. 

''This  will  give  a  fair  growth  of  young  corn-leaves,^'  he 
said,  "by  the  middle  of  September.  By  that  time  you'll 
have  a  new  barn  up,  I  s'pose;  and  after  you  have  cut  and  dried 
the  corn,  you  can  put  a  little  of  it  into  the  mows  in  place  of 
the  hay.  The  greater  part  will  keep  better  if  stacked  out- 
doors. A  horse  will  thrive  on  such  fodder  almost  as  well  as 
a  cow,  'specially  if  ye  cut  it  up  and  mix  a  little  bran-meal 
with  it.  We'll  sow  the  corn  in  drills  a  foot  apart,  and  you 
can  spread  a  little  manure  over  the  top  of  the  ground  after 
the  seed  is  in.  This  ground  is  a  trifle  thin ;  a  top-dressin'  will 
help  it  'mazin'ly." 

Merton  succeeded  in  getting  several  crates  of  raspberries, 
but  said  that  two  or  three  more  pickings  would  finish  them. 
Since  the  time  we  had  begun  to  go  daily  to  the  landing,  we 
had  sent  the  surplus  of  our  vegetables  to  a  village  store,  with 
the  understanding  that  we  would  trade  out  the  proceeds. 
We  thus  had  accumulated  a  little  balance  in  our  favor, 
which  we  could  draw  against  in  groceries,  etc. 

On  the  evening  of  this  day  I  took  the  crates  to  the  land- 
ing, and  found  a  purchaser  for  my  garden  potatoes,  at  a 
dollar  a  bushel.  I  also  made  arrangements  at  a  summer 
boarding-house,  whose  proprietor  agreed  to  take  the  largest 
of  our  spring  chickens,  our  sweet  corn,  tomatoes,  and  some 
other  vegetables,  as  we  had  them  to  spare.  Now  that  our 
income  from  raspberries  was  about  to  cease,  it  was  essential 
to  make  the  most  of  everything  else  on  the  place  that  would 
bring  money,  even  if  we  had  to  deny  ourselves.  It  would 
not  do  for  us  to  say,  "We  can  use  this  or  that  ourselves." 


RALLYING    FROM    THE   BLOW  181 

The  question  to  be  decided  was,  whether,  if  such  a  thing 
were  sold,  the  proceeds  would  not  go  further  toward  our 
support  than  the  things  themselves.  If  this  should  be  true 
of  sweet  corn,  Lima-beans,  and  even  the  melons  on  which 
the  children  had  set  their  hearts,  we  must  be  chary  of  con- 
suming them  ourselves.  This  I  explained  in  such  a  way 
that  all  except  Bobsey  saw  the  wisdom  of  it,  or,  rather,  the 
necessity.  As  yet,  Bobsey's  tendencies  were  those  of  a  con- 
sumer, and  not  of  a  producer  or  saver. 

Rollins  and  one  or  two  others  came  the  next  day,  and  with 
Bagley's  help  the  corn  was  soon  in  the  ground. 

Then  I  set  Bagley  to  work  with  the  cart  spreading  upon 
the  soil  the  barn-yard  compost  that  had  accumulated  since 
spring.  There  was  not  enough  to  cover  all  the  ground,  but 
that  I  could  not  help.  The  large  pile  of  compost  that  I  had 
made  near  the  poultry-house  door  could  not  be  spared  for 
this  purpose,  since  it  was  destined  for  my  August  planting 
of  strawberries. 

Perhaps  I  may  as  well  explain  about  these  compost  heaps 
now  as  at  any  other  time.  I  had  watched  their  rapid  growth 
with  great  satisfaction.  Some  may  dislike  such  homely  de- 
tails, but  since  the  success  of  the  farm  and  garden  depend  on 
them  I  shall  not  pass  them  over,  leaving  the  fastidious  reader 
to  do  this  for  himself. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  I  had  sought  to  prepare  myself 
for  country  life  by  much  reading  and  study  during  the  pre- 
vious winter.  I  had  early  been  impressed  with  the  impor- 
tance of  obtaining  and  saving  everything  that  would  enrich 
the  soil,  and  had  been  shown  that  increasing  the  manure-pile 
was  the  surest  way  to  add  to  one's  bank  account.  Therefore 
all  rakings  of  leaves  had  been  saved.  At  odd  times  Merton 
and  L  had  gone  down  to  the  creek  with  the  cart  and  dug  a 
quantity  of  rich  black  earth  from  near  its  bank.  One  pile 
of  this  material  had  been  placed  near  the  stable  door,  and 
another  at  the  entrance  to  the  poultry-room  in  the  basement 
of  our  vanished  barn.  The  cleanings  of  the  horse-stable  had 
been  spread  over  a  layer  of  this  black  soil.     When  the  layer 


182  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

of  such  cleanings  was  about  a  foot  thick,  spread  evenly,  an- 
other layer  of  earth  covered  all  from  sun  and  rain.  Thus  I 
had  secured  a  pile  of  compost  which  nearly  top-dressed  an 
acre  for  fodder  corn. 

In  the  poultry-room  we  managed  in  this  fashion.  A  foot 
of  raked-up  leaves  and  rich  earth  was  placed  under  the  perches 
of  the  fowls.  Every  two  or  three  weeks  this  layer  was  shov- 
elled out  and  mixed  thoroughly,  and  was  replaced  by  a  new 
layer.  As  a  result  I  had,  by  the  1st  of  August,  a  large  heap 
of  fertilizer  almost  as  good  as  guano,  and  much  safer  to  use, 
for  I  had  read  that  unless  the  latter  was  carefully  managed 
it  would  burn  vegetation  like  fire.  I  believe  that  this  com- 
post-heap by  the  poultry-room  window  would  give  my  young 
strawberry  plantation  a  fine  start,  and,  as  has  been  shown, 
we  were  making  great  calculations  on  the  future  fruit. 

I  also  resolved  that  the  burning  of  the  barn  should  add 
to  our  success  in  this  direction.  All  the  books  said  that  there 
was  nothing  better  for  strawberries  than  wood  ashes,  and  of 
these  there  was  a  great  heap  within  the  foundations  of  the 
destroyed  building.  At  one  time  I  proposed  to  shovel  out 
these  ashes  and  mix  them  with  the  compost,  but  fortunately 
I  first  consulted  my  book  on  fertilizers,  and  read  there  that 
this  would  not  do  at  all — that  they  should  be  used  separately. 


AUGUST    WORK   AND  FLAY  183 


CHAPTER     XXXVIII 

AUGUST      WORK      AND      PLAY 

I  WAS  now  eager  to  begin  the  setting  of  the  strawberry 
plants  in  the  field  where  we  had  put  potatoes,  but  the  re- 
cent heavy  shower  had  kept  the  latter  still  green  and 
growing.  During  the  first  week  in  August,  however,  I  found 
that  the  tubers  had  attained  a  good  size,  and  I  began  to  dig 
long  rows  on  the  upper  side  of  the  patch,  selling  in  the  village 
three  or  four  barrels  of  potatoes  a  week  for  immediate  use. 
By  this  course  I  soon  had  space  enough  cleared  for  ten 
rows  of  strawberries;  and  on  the  6th  of  August  Mr.  Jones 
came  and  plowed  the  land  deeply,  going  twice  in  a  furrow. 
Then  I  harrowed  the  ground,  and,  with  a  corn-plow,  marked 
out  the  space  with  shallow  furrows  three  feet  apart.  Through 
five  of  these  furrows  Merton  sprinkled  a  good  dressing  of  the 
poultry  compost,  and  in  the  remaining  five  drills  we  scattered 
wood  ashes.  Thus  we  should  learn  the  comparative  value  of 
these  fertilizers.  Then  I  made  a  rude  tray  with  two  handles, 
so  that  it  could  be  carried  between  Merton  and  myself.  When 
the  sun  declined,  we  went  to  the  strawberry  bed,  and  having 
selected  the  Duchess  variety  to  set  out  first,  soaked  with 
water  a  certain  portion  of  the  ground  that  was  thick  with 
plants.  Half  an  hour  later,  we  could  dig  up  these  plants 
with  a  ball  of  earth  attached  to  their  roots.  These  were 
carried  carefully  on  the  tray  to  the  field,  and  set  out  in  the 
furrows.  We  levelled  the  ground  first,  so  that  the  crown  of 
the  plant  should  be  even  with  the  surrounding  surface.  We 
set  the  plants  a  foot  apart  in  the  rows,  and  by  dusk  had 
three   rows  out.     Early  the  next  morning  we   gave  these 


184  DRIVEN  BACK    TO   EDEN 

plants  a  good  soaking  in  their  new  starting  place,  and,  al- 
though the  weather  was  now  dry  and  warm,  not  a  leaf  with- 
ered, and  all  began  to  grow  as  if  they  had  not  been  moved. 
It  seemed  slow  work,  but  I  believed  it  would  pay  in  the  end, 
especially  as  Merton,  Winnie,  and  I  performed  nearly  all  the 
labor. 

We  had  now  dispensed  with  Bagley's  services,  a  good 
word  from  me  having  secured  him  work  elsewhere.  I  found 
that  I  could  not  make  arrangements  for  rebuilding  the  barn 
before  the  last  of  August,  and  we  now  began  to  take  a  little 
much-needed  rest.  Our  noonings  were  two  or  three  hours 
long.  Merton  and  Junior  had  time  for  a  good  swim  every 
day,  while  the  younger  children  were  never  weary  of  wading 
in  the  shallows.  I  insisted,  however,  that  they  should  not 
remain  long  in  the  water  on  any  one  occasion,  and  now  and 
then  we  each  took  a  grain  or  two  of  quinine  to  fortify  our 
systems  against  any  malarial  influences  that  might  be  lurk- 
ing around  at  this  season. 

The  children  were  also  permitted  to  make  expeditions  to 
mountain-sides  for  huckleberries  and  blackberries.  As  a 
result,  we  often  had  these  wholesome  fruits  on  the  table, 
while  my  wife  canned  the  surplus  for  winter  use.  A  harvest 
apple  tree  also  began  to  be  one  of  the  most  popular  resorts, 
and  delicious  pies  made  the  dinner-hour  more  welcome  than 
ever.  The  greater  part  of  the  apples  were  sold,  however, 
and  this  was  true  also  of  the  Lima-beans,  sweet  corn,  and 
melons.  We  all  voted  that  the  smaller  ears  and  melons 
tasted  just  as  good  as  if  we  had  picked  out  the  best  of  every- 
thing, and  my  account-book  showed  that  our  income  was  still 
running  well  ahead  of  our  expenses. 

Bobsey  and  Winnie  had  to  receive  another  touch  of  dis- 
cipline and  learn  another  lesson  from  experience.  I  had 
marked  with  my  eye  a  very  large,  perfect  musk-melon,  and 
had  decided  that  it  should  be  kept  for  seed.  They,  too, 
had  marked  it;  and  one  morning,  when  they  thought  them- 
selves unobserved,  they  carried  it  off  to  the  seclusion  of  the 
raspberry  bushes,  proposing  a  selfish  feast  by  themselves. 


AUGUST    WORK   AND   PLAY  185 

Merton  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  little  marauders,  and  fol- 
lowed them.  They  cut  the  melon  in  two,  and  found  it  green 
and  tasteless  as  a  pumpkin.  He  made  me  laugh  as  he  de- 
scribed their  dismay  and  disgust,  then  their  fears  and  fore- 
bodings. The  latter  were  soon  realized;  for  seeing  me  in 
the  distance,  he  beckoned.  As  I  approached,  the  children 
stole  out  of  the  bushes,  looking  very  guilty. 

Merton  explained,  and  I  said :  "Very  well,  you  shall  have 
your  melon  for  dinner,  and  little  else.  I  intend  you  shall 
enjoy  this  melon  fully.  So  sit  down  under  that  tree  and 
each  of  you  hold  half  the  melon  till  I  release  you.  You  have 
already  learned  that  you  can  feast  your  eyes  only." 

There  they  were  kept,  hour  after  hour,  each  holding  half 
of  the  green  melon.  The  dinner-bell  rang,  and  they  knew 
that  we  had  ripe  melons  and  green  corn;  while  nothing  was 
given  them  but  bread  and  water.  Bobsey  howled,  and  Win- 
nie sobbed,  but  my  wife  and  I  agreed  that  such  tendencies 
toward  dishonesty  and  selfishness  merited  a  lasting  lesson. 
At  supper  the  two  culprits  were  as  hungry  as  little  wolves; 
and  when  I  explained  that  the  big  melon  had  been  kept  for 
seed,  and  that  if  it.  had  been  left  to  ripen  they  should  have 
had  their  share,  they  felt  that  they  had  cheated  themselves 
completely. 

"Don't  you  see,  children,"  I  concluded,  "that  acting  on 
the  square  is  not  only  right,  but  that  it  is  always  best  for  us 
in  the  end  ?" 

Then  I  asked,  "Merton,  what  have  the  Bagley  chil- 
dren been  doing  since  they  stopped  picking  raspberries  for 
usT 

"I'm  told  they've  been  gathering  blackberries  and  huckle- 
berries in  the  naountains,  and  selling  them." 

"That's  promising.  E^ow  I  want  you  to  pick  out  a  good- 
sized  water-melon  and  half  a  dozen  musk-melons,  and  I'll 
leave  them  at  Bagley's  cottage  to-morrow  night  as  I  go  down 
to  the  village.  In  old  times  they  would  have  stolen  our  crop ; 
now  they  shall  share  in  it." 

When  I  carried  the  present  on  the  following  evening. 


1B6  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

the  children  indulged  in  uncouth  cries  and  gambols  over  the 
gift,  and  Bagley  himself  was  touched. 

"ril  own  up  ter  yer,"  he  said,  "that  yer  melon  patch  was 
sore  temptin'  to  the  young  uns,  but  I  tole  'em  that  I'd  thrash 
'em  if  they  teched  one.  IN^ow  yer  see,  youngsters,  ye've  got 
a  man  of  feel  in'  ter  deal  with,  and  yer've  got  some  melons 
arter  all,  and  got  'em  squar',  too." 

"I  hear  good  accounts  of  you  and  your  children,"  I  said, 
"and  I'm  glad  of  it.  Save  the  seeds  of  these  melons  and 
plant  a  lot  for  yourself.  See  here,  Bagley,  we'll  plow  your 
garden  for  you  this  fall,  and  you  can  put  a  better  fence 
around  it.  If  you'll  do  this,  I'll  share  my  garden  seeds  with 
you  next  spring,  and  you  can  raise  enough  on  that  patch  of 
ground  to  half  feed  your  family." 

"I'll  take  yer  up,"  cried  the  man,  "and  there's  my  hand 
on  it  ag'in." 

"God  bless  you  and  Mrs.  Durham!"  added  his  wife. 
"We're  now  beginning  to  live  like  human  critters." 

I  resumed  my  journey  to  the  village,  feeling  that  never 
before  had  melons  been  better  invested. 

The  Moodna  Creek  had  now  become  very  low,  and  not 
more  than  half  its  stony  bed  was  covered  with  water.  At 
many  points,  light,  active  feet  could  find  their  way  across  and 
not  be  wet.  Junior  now  had  a  project  on  hand,  of  which  he 
and  Merton  had  often  spoken  lately.  A  holiday  was  given 
to  the  boys  and  they  went  to  work  to  construct  an  eel  weir 
and  trap.  With  trousers  well  rolled  up,  they  selected  a  point 
on  one  side  of  the  creek  where  the  water  was  deepest,  and 
here  they  left  an  open  passage-way  for  the  current.  On  each 
side  of  this  they  began  to  roll  large  stones,  and  on  these  placed 
smaller  ones,  raising  two  long  obstructions  to  the  natural 
flow.  These  continuous  obstructions  ran  obliquely  up-stream, 
directing  the  main  current  to  the  open  passage,  which  was 
only  about  two  feet  wide,  with  a  post  on  either  side,  narrow- 
ing it  still  more,  In  this  they  placed  the  trap,  a  long  box 
made  of  lath,  sufficiently  open  to  let  the  water  run  through 
it,  and  having  a  peculiar  opening  at  the  upper  end  where  the 


AOOUST    WORK    AND    PLAY  187 

current  began  to  rush  down  the  narrow  passage-way.  The 
box  rested  closely  on  the  gravelly  bottom,  and  was  fastened 
to  the  posts.  Short,  close-fitting  slats  from  the  bottom  and 
top  of  the  box,  at  its  upper  end,  sloped  inward,  till  they  made 
a  narrow  opening.  All  its  other  parts  were  eel-tight.  The 
eels  coming  down  with  the  current  which  had  been  directed 
toward  the  entrance  of  the  box,  as  has  been  explained,  passed 
into  it,  and  there  they  would  remain.  They  never  had  the 
wit  to  find  the  narrow  aperture  by  which  they  had  entered. 
This  turned  out  to  be  useful  sport,  for  every  morning  the 
boys  lifted  their  trap  and  took  out  a  goodly  number  of  eels ; 
and  when  the  squirmers  were  nicely  dressed  and  browned, 
they  proved  delicious  morsels. 


188  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

A   TRIP   TO   THE   SEASHORE 

IN  the  comparative  leisure  which  the  children  enjoyed  dur- 
ing August,  they  felt  amply  repaid  for  the  toil  of  the  pre- 
vious months.  We  also  managed  to  secure  two  great  gala- 
days.  The  first  was  spent  in  a  trip  to  the  seashore ;  and  this 
was  a  naomentous  event,  marred  by  only  one  slight  drawback. 
The  "Mary  Powell,"  a  swift  steamer,  touched  every  morning 
at  the  Maizeville  Landing.  I  learned  that,  from  its  wharf,  in 
New  York,  another  steamer  started  for  Coney  Island,  and 
came  back  in  time  for  us  to  return  on  the  "PowelP'  at  3.30 
P.M.  Thus  we  could  secure  a  delightful  sail  down  the  river 
and  bay,  and  also  have  several  hours  on  the  beach.  My 
wife  and  I  talked  over  this  little  outing,  and  found  that  if  we 
took  our  lunch  with  us,  it  would  be  inexpensive.  I  saw  Mr. 
Jones,  and  induced  him  and  his  wife,  with  Junior,  to  join  us. 
Then  the  children  were  told  of  our  plan,  and  their  hurrahs 
made  the  old  house  ring.  Now  that  we  were  in  for  it,  we 
proposed  no  half-way  measures.  Four  plump  spring  chickens 
were  killed  and  roasted,  and  to  these  were  added  so  many 
ham  sandwiches  and  hard-boiled  eggs,  that  I  declared  that  we 
were  provisioned  for  a  week.  My  wife  nodded  at  Bobsey, 
and  said,  "Wait  and  see !'' 

Whom  do  you  think  we  employed  to  mount  guard  during 
our  absence?  No  other  than  Bagley.  Mr.  Jones  said  that 
it  was  like  asking  a  wolf  to  guard  the  flock,  for  his  prejudices 
yielded  slowly ;  but  I  felt  sure  that  this  proof  of  trust  would 
do  the  man  more  good  than  a  dozen  sermons. 

Indeed,  he  did  seem  wonderfully  pleased  with  his  task, 


A    TRIP    TO    THE   SEASHORE 

and  said,  "Ye'll  find  I've  'arned  my  dollar  when  ye  git 
back.'' 

The  children  scarcely  slept  in  their  glad  anticipation,  and 
were  up  with  the  sun.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  drove  down  in 
their  light  wagon,  while  Junior  joined  our  children  in  an- 
other straw-ride,  packed  in  between  the  lunch-baskets.  We 
had  ample  time  after  reaching  the  landing  to  put  our  horses 
and  vehicles  in  a  safe  place,  and  then  we  watched  for  the 
^Towell."  Soon  we  saw  her  approaching  Newtown,  four 
miles  above,  then  speeding  toward  the  wharf,  and  rounding 
into  it,  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a  swan.  We  scrambled 
aboard,  smiled  at  by  all.  I  suppose  we  did  not  form,  with 
our  lunch-baskets,  a  very  stylish  group,  but  that  was  the  least 
of  our  troubles.  I  am  satisfied  that  none  of  the  elegant  peo- 
ple we  brushed  against  were  half  so  happy  as  we  were. 

We  stowed  away  our  baskets  and  then  gave  ourselves  up 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  lovely  Highland  scenery,  and  to 
watching  the  various  kinds  of  craft  that  we  were  constantly 
passing.  Winnie  and  Bobsey  had  been  placed  under  bonds 
for  good  behavior,  and  were  given  to  understand  that  they 
must  exercise  the  grace  of  keeping  moderately  still.  The 
sail  down  the  river  and  bay  was  a  long,  grateful  rest  to  us 
older  people,  and  I  saw  with  pleasure  that  my  wife  was  en- 
joying every  moment,  and  that  the  fresh  salt  breeze  was  fan- 
ning color  into  her  cheeks.  Plump  Mrs.  Jones  dozed  and 
smiled,  and  wondered  at  the  objects  we  passed,  for  she  had 
never  been  much  of  a  traveller;  while  her  husband's  shrewd 
eyes  took  in  everything,  and  he  often  made  us  laugh  by  his 
quaint  remarks.  Junior  and  Merton  were  as  alert  as  hawks. 
They  early  made  the  acquaintance  of  deck-hands  who  good- 
naturedly  answered  their  numerous  questions.  I  took  the 
younger  children  on  occasional  exploring  expeditions,  but 
never  allowed  them  to  go  beyond  my  reach,  for  I  soon 
learned  that  Bobsey 's  promises  sat  lightly  on  his  conscience. 

At  last  we  reached  the  great  Iron  Pier  at  Coney  Island, 
which  we  all  traversed  vdth  wondering  eyes. 

We  established  ourselves  in  a  large  pavilion,  fitted  up 


190  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

for  just  such  picnic  parties  as  ours.  Beneath  us  stretched 
the  sandy  beach.  We  elderly  people  were  glad  enough  to 
sit  down  and  rest,  but  the  children  forgot  even  the  lunch- 
baskets,  so  eager  were  they  to  run  upon  the  sand  in  search  of 
shells. 

All  went  well  until  an  unusually  high  wave  came  rolling 
in.  The  children  scrambled  out  of  its  way,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Bobsey,  who  was  caught  and  tumbled  over,  and  lay 
kicking  in  the  white  foam.  In  a  moment  I  sprang  down 
the  steps,  picked  him  up,  and  bore  him  to  his  mother. 

He  was  wet  through;  and  now  what  was  to  be  done? 
After  inquiry  and  consultation,  I  found  that  I  could  procure 
for  him  a  little  bathing-dress  which  would  answer  during  the 
heat  of  the  day,  and  an  old  colored  woman  promised  to  have 
his  clothing  dry  in  an  hour.  So  the  one  cloud  on  our  pleas- 
ure proved  to  have  a  very  bright  lining,  for  Bobsey,  since  he 
was  no  longer  afraid  of  the  water,  could  roll  in  the  sand  and 
the  gentle  surf  to  his  hearths  content. 

Having  devoured  a  few  sandwiches  to  keep  up  our  cour- 
age, we  all  procured  bathing-dresses,  even  Mrs.  Jones  having 
been  laughingly  compelled  by  her  husband  to  follow  the  gen- 
eral example.  When  we  all  gathered  in  the  passage-way 
leading  to  the  water,  we  were  convulsed  with  laughter  at  our 
ridiculous  appearance;  but  there  were  so  many  others  in  like 
plight  that  we  were  scarcely  noticed.  Mrs.  Jones's  dress  was 
a  trifle  small,  and  her  husband's  immensely  large.  He  re- 
marked that  if  we  could  now  take  a  stroll  through  Maize ville, 
there  wouldn't  be  a  crow  left  in  town. 

Mrs.  Jones  could  not  be  induced  to  go  beyond  a  point 
where  the  water  was  a  foot  or  two  deep,  and  the  waves  rolled 
her  around  like  an  amiable  porpoise.  Merton  and  Junior 
were  soon  swimming  fearlessly,  the  latter  wondering,  mean- 
while, at  the  buoyant  quality  of  the  salt  water.  My  wife, 
Mousie,  and  Winnie  allowed  me  to  take  them  beyond  the 
breakers,  and  soon  grew  confident.  In  fifteen  minutes  I 
sounded  recall,  and  we  all  emerged,  lank  Mr.  Jone^  now  mak- 
ing, in  very  truth,  an  ideal  scarecrow.     Bobsey's  dry  gar- 


A    TRIP   TO    THE   SEASHORE  191 

ments  were  brought,  and  half  an  hour  later  we  were  all 
clothed,  and,  as  Mr.  Jomes  remarked,  "For  a  wonder,  in  our 
right  minds/' 

The  onslaught  then  made  on  the  lunch-baskets  was  never 
surpassed,  even  at  that  place  of  hungry  excursionists.  In 
due  time  we  reached  home,  tired,  sleepy,  yet  content  with  the 
fact  that  we  had  filled  one  day  with  enjoyment  and  added  to 
our  stock  of  health. 

The  next  morning  proved  that  Bagley  had  kept  his  word. 
Everything  was  in  order,  and  the  amount  of  work  accom- 
plished in  the  garden  showed  that  he  had  been  on  his  mettle. 
Hungry  as  we  had  been,  we  had  not  emptied  our  lunch- 
baskets,  and  my  wife  made  up  a  nice  little  present  from  what 
remained,  to  which  was  added  a  package  of  candy,  and  all 
was  carried  to  the  Bagley  cottage. 

Juvenile  experiences  had  not  exactly  taught  the  Bagley 
children  that  "the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard," — they 
had  not  gone  far  enough  for  that, — and  it  certainly  was  our 
duty  to  add  such  flowers  as  we  could  to  the  paths  of  virtue. 

The  month  of  August  was  now  well  advanced.  We  had 
been  steadily  digging  the  potatoes  in  the  field  and  selling 
them  in  their  unripened  condition,  until  half  the  acre  had 
been  cleared.  The  vines  in  the  lower  half  of  the  patch  were 
now  growing  very  yellow,  and  I  decided  to  leave  them,  until 
the  tubers  should  thoroughly  ripen,  for  winter  use.  By  the 
20th  of  the  month  we  had  all  the  space  that  had  been  cleared, 
that  is,  half  an  acre,  filled  with  Duchess  and  Wilson  straw- 
berries ;  and  the  plants  first  set  were  green  and  vigorous,  with 
renewed  running  tendencies.  But  the  runners  were  promptly 
cut  off,  so  that  the  plants  might  grow  strong  enough  to  give 
a  good  crop  of  fruit  in  the  following  June. 

I  now  began  to  tighten  the  reins  on  the  children,  and  we 
all  devoted  more  hours  to  work. 

During  the  month  we  gathered  a  few  bushels  of  plums 
on  the  place.  My  wife  preserved  some,  and  the  rest  were 
sold  at  the  boarding-houses  and  village  stores,  for  Mr.  Bogart 
had  written  that  when  I  could  find  a  home  market  for  small 


192  DRIVEN  BACK   TO   EDEN 

quantities  of  produce,  it  would  pay  me  better  than  to  send 
them  to  the  city.  I  kept  myself  informed  as  to  city  prices, 
and  found  that  he  had  given  me  good  and  disinterested  ad- 
vice. Therefore,  we  managed  to  dispose  of  our  small  crop  of 
early  pears  and  peaches  as  we  had  done  with  the  plums. 
Every  day  convinced  me  of  the  wisdom  of  buying  a  place 
already  stocked  with  fruit;  for,  although  the  first  cost  was 
greater,  we  had  immediately  secured  an  income  which  prom- 
ised to  leave  a  margin  of  profit  after  meeting  all  expenses. 

During  the  last  week  of  August  the  potatoes  were  fully 
ripe,  and  Merton,  Winnie,  Bobsey,  and  I  worked  manfully, 
sorting  the  large  from  the  small,  as  they  were  gathered.  The 
crop  turned  out  very  well,  especially  on  the  lower  side  of  the 
field,  where  the  ground  had  been  rather  richer  and  moister 
than  in  the  upper  portion. 

I  did  not  permit  Merton  to  dig  continuously,  as  it  was  hard 
work  for  him;  but  he  seemed  to  enjoy  throwing  out  the  great, 
smooth,  white-coated  fellows,  and  they  made  a  pretty  sight 
as  they  lay  in  thick  rows  behind  us,  drying,  for  a  brief  time, 
in  the  sun.  They  were  picked  up,  put  into  barrels,  drawn  to 
the  dry,  cool  shed,  and  well  covered  from  the  light.  Mr. 
Jones  had  told  me  that  as  soon  as  potatoes  had  dried  off  after 
digging,  they  ought  to  be  kept  in  the  dark,  since  too  much 
light  makes  them  tough  and  bitter.  ISTow  that  they  were 
ripe,  it  was  important  that  they  should  be  dug  promptly,  for  I 
had  read  that  a  warm  rain  is  apt  to  start  the  new  potatoes  to 
growing,  and  this  spoils  them  for  table  use. 

So  I  said :  "We  will  stick  to  this  task  until  it  is  finished, 
and  then  we  shall  have  another  outing.  I  am  almost  ready 
to  begin  rebuilding  the  barn;  but  before  I  do  so,  I  wish  to 
visit  Houghton  Farm,  and  shall  take  you  all  with  me.  I  may 
obtain  some  ideas  which  will  be  useful,  even  in  my  small  out- 
lay of  money." 


A    VISIT   TO   HOUGHTON   FARM  193 


CHAPTER    XL 

A   VISIT  TO   HOUGHTON   FARM 

HOUGHTON  FARM,  distant  a  few  miles,  is  a  magnifi- 
cent  estate  of  about  one  thousand  acres,  and  the 
outbuildings  upon  it  are  princely  in  comparison 
with  anything  I  could  erect.  They  had  been  constructed, 
however,  on  practical  and  scientific  principles,  and  I  hoped 
that  a  visit  might  suggest  to  me  some  useful  points.  Sound 
principles  might  be  applied,  in  a  modest  way,  to  even  such 
a  structure  as  would  come  within  my  means.  At  any  rate, 
a  visit  to  such  a  farm  would  be  full  of  interest  and  pleasure. 
So  we  dug  away  at  the  potatoes,  and  worked  like  ants  in 
gathering  them,  until  we  had  nearly  a  hundred  bushels 
stored.  As  they  were  only  fifty  cents  a  bushel,  I  resolved 
to  keep  them  until  the  following  winter  and  spring,  when  I 
might  need  money  more  than  at  present,  and  also  get  better 
prices. 

Then,  one  bright  day  toward  the  end  of  August,  we  all 
started,  after  an  early  dinner,  for  the  farm,  Junior  going 
with  us  as  usual.  We  had  been  told  that  the  large-minded 
and  liberal  owner  of  this  model  farm  welcomed  visitors,  and 
so  we  had  no  doubts  as  to  our  reception.  Nor  were  we  dis- 
appointed when,  having  skirted  broad,  rich  fields  for  some 
distance,  we  turned  to  the  right  down  a  long,  wide  lane, 
bordered  by  beautiful  shrubbery,  and  leading  to  the  great 
buildings,  which  were  numbered  conspicuously.  We  were 
courteously  met  by  Major  Alvord,  the  agent  in  charge  of 
the  entire  estate.  I  explained  the  object  of  my  visit,  and 
he  kindly  gave  us  a  few  moments,  showing  us  through  the 
different  barns  and  stables.     Our  eyes  grew  large  with  won- 


194  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

der  as  we  saw  tbe  complete  appliances  for  carrying  on  an 
immense  stock-farm.  The  summer  crops  Had  been  gathered, 
and  we  exclaimed  at  the  hundreds  of  tons  of  hay,  fodder, 
and  straw  stored  in  the  mows. 

"We  use  a  ton  of  hay  daily,  after  the  pasture  season  is 
over, ' '  remarked  our  guide. 

When  we  came  to  look  at  the  sleek  Jersey  cows  and 
calves,  with  their  fawn-like  faces,  our  admiration  knew  no 
bounds.  We  examined  the  stalls  in  which  could  stand 
thirty-four  cows.  Over  each  was  the  name  of  the  occu- 
pant, all  blood  animals  of  the  purest  breed,  with  a  pedigree 
which  might  put  to  shame  many  newly  rich  people  display- 
ing coats-of-arms.  The  children  went  into  ecstasies  over 
the  pretty,  innocent  faces  of  the  Jersey  calves,  and  Mousie 
said  they  were  "nice  enough  to  kiss."  Then  we  were  shown 
the  great,  thick-necked,  black-headed  Jersey  bull,  and  could 
scarcely  believe  our  ears  when  told  that  he,  his  mother,  and 
six  brothers  represented  values  amounting  to  about  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars. 

We  next  visited  a  great  Norman  mare,  as  big  as  two  ordi- 
nary horses,  and  the  large,  clumsy  colt  at  her  side;  then  ad- 
mired beautiful  stallions  with  fiery  eyes  and  arching  necks; 
also  the  superb  carriage-horses,  and  the  sleek,  strong  work 
animals.  Their  stalls  were  finely  finished  in  Georgia  pine. 
Soon  afterward,  Bobsey  went  wild  over  the  fat  little  Essex 
pigs,  black  as  coals,  but  making  the  whitest  and  sweetest 
of  pork. 

"Possessyour  soul  in  patience,  Bobsey,"  I  said.  "With 
our  barn,  I  am  going  to  make  a  sty,  and  then  we  will  have 
some  pigs." 

I  had  had  no  good  place  for  them  thus  far,  and  felt  that 
we  had  attempted  enough  for  beginners.  Moreover,  I  could 
not  endure  to  keep  pigs  in  the  muddy  pens  in  ordinary  use, 
feeling  that  we  could  never  eat  the  pork  produced  under 
such  conditions. 

The  milk-house  and  dairy  were  examined,  and  we  thought 
of  the  oceans  of  milk  that  had  passed  through  them. 


A    VISIT   TO    HOUGHTON   FARM  195 


than  anything  else.  A  mountain  stream  had  been  dammed 
so  as  to  make  an  island.  On  the  surrounding  waters  were 
fleets  of  water- fowl,  ducks  and  geese  of  various  breeds,  and, 
chief  in  interest,  a  flock  of  Canada  wild-geese,  domesticated. 
Here  we  could  look  closely  at  these  great  wild  migrants  that, 
spring  and  fall,  pass  and  repass  high  up  in  the  sky,  in  flocks, 
flying  in  the  form  of  a  harrow  or  the  two  sides  of  a  triangle, 
meanwhile  sending  out  crios  that,  in  the  distance,  sound 
strange  and  weird. 

Leaving  my  wife  and  children  admiring  these  birds  and 
their  rustic  houses  on  the  island,  I  went  with  Major  Alvord 
to  his  offices,  and  saw  the  fine  scientific  appliances  for 
carrying  on  agricultural  experiments  designed  to  extend 
the  range  of  accurate  and  practical  knowledge.  Not  only 
was  the  great  farm  planted  and  reaped,  blood  stock  grown 
and  improved  by  careful  breeding,  but,  accompanying  all 
this  labor,  was  maintained  a  careful  system  of  experiments 
tending  to  develop  and  establish  that  supreme  science — the 
successful  culture  of  the  soil.  Major  Alvord  evidently  de- 
served his  reputation  for  doing  the  work  thoroughly  and 
intelligently,  and  I  was  glad  to  think  that  there  were  men 
in  the  land,  like  the  proprietor  of  Houghton  Farm,  who  are 
willing  to  spend  thousands  annually  in  enriching  the  rural 
classes  by  bringing  within  their  reach  the  knowledge  that 
is  power. 

After  a  visit  to  the  sheep  and  poultry  departments,  each 
occupying  a  large  farm  by  itself,  we  felt  that  we  had  seen 
much  to  think  and  talk  over. 

It  was  hard  to  get  Winnie  away  from  the  poultry- houses 
and  yards,  where  each  celebrated  breed  was  kept  scrupu- 
lously by  itself.  There  were  a  thousand  hens,  besides  in- 
numerable young  chickens.  We  were  also  shown  incu- 
bators, which,  in  spring,  hatch  little  chickens  by  hundreds. 

"Think  of  fifteen  hundred  eggs  at  a  sitting,  Winnie!"  I 
cried;  *' that's  quite  a  contrast  to  the  number  that  you  put 
under  one  of  your  biddies  at  home." 


196  DRIVEN  BACK    TO    EDEN 

"I  don't  care,"  replied  the  child;  "we've  raised  over 
a  hundred  chickens  since  we  began." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  I  said.  "That  for  you — for  you  have 
seen  to  it  all  chiefly — is  a  greater  success  than  anything 
here. ' ' 

I  was  thoughtful  as  we  drove  home,  and  at  last  my  wife 
held  out  a  penny. 

"No,"  I  said,  laughing;  "my  thoughts  shall  not  cost  you 
even  that.  What  I  have  seen  to-day  has  made  clearer  what 
1  have"  believed  before.  There  are  two  distinct  ways  of 
securing  success  in  outdoor  work.  One  is  ours,  and  the 
other  is  after  the  plan  of  Houghton  Farm.  Ours  is  the  only 
one  possible  for  us — that  of  working  a  small  place  and 
performing  the  labor,  as  far  as  possible,  ourselves.  If  1  had 
played  'boss,'  as  Bagley  sometimes  calls  me,  and  hired  the 
labor  which  we  have  done  ourselves,  the  children  mean- 
while idle,  we  should  soon  come  to  a  disastrous  end  in  our 
country  experiment.  The  fact  that  we  have  all  worked 
hard,  and  wisely,  too,  in  the  main,  and  have  employed 
extra  help  only  when  there  was  more  than  we  could  do, 
will  explain  our  account- book;  that  is,  the  balance  in  our 
favor.  I  believe  that  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  failure  on 
the  part  of  people  in  our  circumstances  is,  that  they  employ 
help  to  do  what  they  should  have  done  themselves,  and 
that  it  doesn't  and  can't  pay  small  farmers  and  fruit- 
growers to  attempt  much  beyond  what  they  can  take  care 
of,  most  of  the  year,  with  their  own  hands.  Then  there's 
the  other  method — that  of  large  capital  carrying  things  on 
as  we  have  seen  to-day.  The  farm  then  becomes  like  a  great 
factory  or  mercantile  house.  There  must  be  at  the  head  of 
everything  a  large  organizing  brain  capable  of  introducing 
and  enforcing  thorough  system,  and  of  skilfully  directing 
labor  and  investment,  so  as  to  secure  the  most  from  the 
least  outlay.  -  A  farm  such  as  we  have  just  seen  would  be 
like  a  bottomless  pit  for  money  in  bungling,  careless 
hands. ' ' 

"I'm   content   with   our   own    little   place   and   modest 


A    VISIT   TO   HOUGHTON   FARM  197 

ways,"  said  my  wife.  "I  never  wish  our  affairs  to  grow 
so  large  that  we.  can't  talk  them  over  every  night,  if  so 
inclined." 

"Well,"  I  replied,  "I  feel  as  yon  do.  I  never  should 
have  made  a  great  merchant  in  town,  and  I  am  content  to 
be  a  small  farmer  in  the  country,  sailing  close  to  shore 
in  snug  canvas,  with  no  danger  of  sudden  wreck  keeping 
me  awake  nights.  The  insurance  money  will  be  available 
in  a  few  days,  and  we  shall  begin  building  at  once." 

The  next  day  Merton  and  I  cleared  away  the  rest  of  the 
debris  in  and  around  the  foundations  of  the  barn,  and  before 
night  the  first  load  of  lumber  arrived  from  the  carpenter 
who  had  taken  the  contract. 

This  forerunner  of  bustling  workmen,  and  all  the  mys- 
tery of  fashioning  crude  material  into  something  looking 
like  the  plan  over  which  we  had  all  pored  so  often,  was 
more  interesting  to  the  children  than  the  construction  of 
Solomon's  temple. 

"To-morrow  the  stone-masons  come, "  I  said  at  supper, 
**and  by  October  we  are  promised  a  new  barn." 


198  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 


CHAPTER  XLl 

HOARDING   FOR   WINTER 

AS  was  Stated  early  in  this  simple  history  the  original 
barn  was  built  on  a  hillside,  the  rear  facing  the 
southeast;  and  since  the  foundations  were  still  in  a 
fair  condition,  and  the  site  was  convenient,  I  determined  to 
build  on  the  same  spot,  somewhat  modifying  the  old  plan. 
I  had  read  of  the  importance  of  keeping  manure  under 
cover,  and  now  arranged  that  by  a  trap  door  the  cleanings 
of  the  horse  and  cow  stable  should  be  thrown  into  the  base- 
ment, which,  by  a  solid  brick  partition,  should  be  so  divided 
as  to  leave  ample  room  for  a  dark  cellar  in  which  to  store 
roots  and  apples.  Through  this  trap  door  in  the  stable  rich 
earth  and  muck  from  the  banks  of  the  creek  could  be  thrown 
down  also,  covering  the  manure,  and  all  could  be  worked 
over  and  mixed  on  rainy  days.  By  this  method  I  could 
make  the  most  of  my  fertilizers,  which  may  be  regarded  as 
the  driving-wheel  of  the  farm. 

I  had  decided  that  the  poultry-house  and  pigsty  should 
form  an  extension  to  the  barn,  and  that  both  should  be 
built  in  the  side  of  the  bank  also.  They  would  thus  have 
an  exposure  to  the  south,  and  at  the  same  time,  being 
formed  in  part  by  an  excavation,  would  be  cool  in  summer. 
The  floor  of  the  sty  should  have  a  slight  downward  slope, 
and  be  cemented.  Therefore  it  could  be  kept  perfectly 
clean.  This  residence  of  Bobsey's  future  pets  should  be 
at  the  extreme  end  of  the  extension,  and  above  it  should 
be  a  room  in  which  I  could  store  picked-up  apples,  corn, 
and  other  food  adapted  to  their  needs,  also  a  conduit  by 
which  swill  could  be  poured  into  the  trough  below  without 


HOARDING    FOR    WINTER  199 

the  necessity  of  entering  the  pen.  I  proposed  to  keep  only 
two  or  three  pigs  at  a  time,  buying  them  when  young  from 
neighboring  farmers,  and  fattening  them  for  our  own  use 
aocording  to  my  own  ideas. 

The  poultry- house,  between  the  barn  and  sty,  was  to  be 
built  so  that  its  side,  facing  the  south,  should  be  chiefly 
of  glass.  It  was  so  constructed  as  to  secure  the  greatest 
amount  of  light  and  warmth.  Eggs  in  winter  form  the  most 
profitable  item  in  poultry  keeping,  and  these  depend  on 
warmth,  food,  shelter,  and  cleanliness,  with  the  essential 
condition  that  the  hens  are  young.  All  the  pullets  of 
Winnie's  early  broods  therefore  had  been  kept,  and  only 
the  young  cockerels  eaten  or  sold.  We  had  the  prospect  of 
wintering  about  fifty  laying  hens;  and  the  small  potatoes 
we  had  saved  would  form  a  large  portion  of  their  food. 
Indeed,  for  some  weeks  back,  such  small  tubers,  boiled  and 
mashed  with  meal,  had  formed  the  main  feed  of  our  grow- 
ing chickens. 

1  learned  that  Bagley  was  out  of  work,  and  employed 
him  to  excavate  the  bank  for  these  new  buildings.  We 
saved  the  surface  earth  carefully  for  compost  purposes,  and 
then  struck  some  clean,  nice  gravel,  which  was  carted  away 
to  a  convenient  place  for  our  roads  and  walks.  On  a  hill- 
side near  the  creek  were  large  stones  and  rocks  in  great 
quantity,  and  some  of  these  were  broken  up  for  the  founda- 
tions. Along  the  edge  of  the  creek  we  also  found  some  ex- 
cellent sand,  and  therefore  were  saved  not  a  little  expense 
in  starting  our  improvements. 

It  did  not  take  the  masons  long  to  point  up  and  strengthen 
the  old  foundations,  and  early  in  September  everything  was 
under  full  headway,  the  sound  of  hammer,  saw,  and  plane 
resounding  all  day  long.  If  was  Winnie's  and  Bobeey's 
task  to  gather  up  the  shavings  and  refuse  bits  of  lumber, 
and  carry  them  to  the  woodhouse. 

''The  ease  and  quickness  with  which  we  can  build  fires 
next  winter,"  I  said,  ''is  a  pleasant  thing  to  think  of." 

Meanwhile  the  garden  was  not  neglected.      The  early 

Roe — ^IX — ^X 


200  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

flight  of  summer-boarders  had  greatly  reduced  the  demand 
for  vegetables,  and  now  we  began  to  hoard  them  for  our 
own  use.  The  Lima- beans  were  allowed  to  dry  on  the 
vines;  the  matured  pods  of  the  bush- beans  were  spread  in 
the  attic;  thither  also  the  ripened  onions  were  brought  and 
placed  in  shallow  boxes.  As  far  as  possible  we  had  saved 
our  own  seed,  and  I  had  had  a  box  made  and  covered  with 
tin,  so  as  to  be  mouse-proof,  and  in  this  we  placed  the 
difierent  varieties,  carefully  labelled.  Although  it  was  not 
"apple  year,"  a  number  of  our  trees  were  in  bearing.  The 
best  of  the  windfalls  were  picked  up,  and,  with  the  tomatoes 
and  such  other  vegetables  as  were  in  demand,  sent  to  the 
village  twice  a  week.  As  fast  as  crops  matured,  the  ground 
was  cleared,  and  the  refuse,  such  as  contained  no  injurious 
seeds,  was  saved  as  a  winter  covering  for  the  strawberry 
plants. 

Our  main  labor,  however,  after  digging  the  rest  of  the 
potatoes,  was  the  setting  of  the  remaining  half-acre  in  the 
later  varieties  of  the  strawberry.  Although  the  early  part 
of  September  was  very  dry  and  warm,  we  managed  to  set 
out,  in  the  manner  I  have  described,  two  or  three  rows 
nearly  every  afternoon.  The  nights  had  now  grown  so  long 
and  cool  that  one  thorough  watering  seemed  to  establish 
the  plants.  This  was  due  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  nearly 
every  plant  had  a  ball  of  earth  attached  to  the  roots,  and 
had  never  been  allowed  to  wilt  at  all  in  the  transition. 
About  the  middle  of  the  month  there  came  a  fine  rain, 
and  we  filled  the  remainder  of  the  ground  in  one  day,  all 
the  children  aiding  me  in  the  task.  The  plants  first  set  out 
were  now  strong  and  flourishing.  Each  had  a  bunch  of 
foliage  six  inches  in  diameter. 

Thus,  with  helping  on  the  new  barn  and  other  work, 
September  saw  a  renewal  of  our  early-summer  activity. 

"The  winds  in  the  trees  are  whispering  of  winter,"  I 
said  to  the  children,  "and  all  thrifty  creatures — ants,  bees, 
and  squirrels — are  laying  up  their  stores.     So  must  we." 

I  had  watched  our  maturing  corn  with  great  satisfaction. 


HOARDING    FOR    WINTER  201 

For  a  long  time  Merton  bad  been  able  to  walk  through  it 
without  his  straw  hat  being  seen  above  the  nodding  tassels* 
One  day,  about  the  20th  of  the  month,  Mr.  Jones  came  over 
with  some  bundles  of  long  rye  straw  in  his  wagon,  and  said, 
'*Yer  can't  guess  what  these  are  fer." 

*'Some  useful  purpose,  or  you  wouldn't  have  brought 
them,"  I  replied. 

"  We'll  see.     Come  with  me  to  the  corn  patch." 

As  we  started  he  took  a  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  1  saw 
that  he  had  in  his  hand  a  tool  called  a  corn- knife.  Going 
through  the  rows  he  occasionally  stripped  down  the  husks 
from  an  ear. 

Finally  he  said:  *' Yes,  it's  ready»  Don't  yer  see  that  the 
kernels  are  plump  and  glazed  ?  Junior  and  I  are  going  to 
tackle  our  corn  ter-morrow,  and  says  I  to  myself,  'If  ourn 
is  ready  to  cut,  so  is  neighbor  Durham's,'  The  sooner  it's 
cut  after  it's  ready,  the  better.  The  stalks  are  worth  more 
for  fodder,  and  you  run  no  risk  from  an  early  frost,  which 
would  spile  it  all.  You  and  Merton  pitch  in  as  yer  allers 
do,  and  this  is  the  way  ter  do  it. " 

With  his  left  hand  gathering  the  stalks  of  a  hill  together 
above  the  ears,  he  cut  them  all  otf  with  one  blow  of  the 
corn-knife  within  six  inches  of  the  ground,  and  then  leaned 
them  against  the  stalks  of  an  uncut  hill.  This  he  continued 
to  do  until  he  had  made  what  he  called  a  ''stout,"  or  a 
bunch  of  stalks  as  large  as  he  could  conveniently  reach 
around,  the  uncut  hill  of  stalks  forming  a  support  in  the 
centre.  Then  he  took  a  wisp  of  the  rye-straw,  divided  it 
evenly,  and  putting  the  ends  together,  twisted  it  speedily 
into  a  sort  of  rope.  With  this  he  bound  the  stout  tightly 
above  the  ears  by  a  simple  method  which  one  showing  made 
plain  to  me. 

"Well,  you  are  a  good  neighbor!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Pshaw!  What  does  this  amount  to?  If  a  man  can't 
do  a  good  turn  when  it  costs  as  little  as  this,  he's  a  mighty 
mean  feller.  You  forget  that  I've  sold  you  a  lot  of  rye- 
straw,  and  so  have  the  best  of  yer  after  all." 


202  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

"I  don't  forget  anything,  Mr.  Jones.  As  you  say,  I  be- 
lieve we  shall  'make  a  go'  of  it  here,  but  we  alwlays  remem- 
ber how  much  we  owe  to  you  and  Junior.  You've  taken 
my  money  in  a  way  that  saved  my  self-respect,  and  made 
me  feel  that  I  could  go  to  you  as  often  as  I  wished;  but  you 
have  never  taken  advantage  of  me,  and  you  have  kept  smart 
people  from  doing  it.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Jones,  that  in 
every  country  village  there  are  keen,  weasel-like  people 
who  encourage  new-comers  by  bleeding  their  pocket-books 
at  every  chance  ?  In  securing  you  as  a  neighbor  our  battle 
was  half  won,  for  no  one  needs  a  good  practical  friend  more 
than  a  city  man  beginning  life  in  the  country." 

"Jerusalem!  how  you  talk!  I'm  goin'  right  home  and 
tell  my  wife  to  call  me  Saint  Jones.  Then  I'll  get  a  tin 
halo  and  wear  it,  for  my  straw  hat  is  about  played  out;" 
and  away  he  went,  chuckling  over  his  odd  conceits,  but 
pleased,  as  all  men  are,  when  their  goodwill  is  appreciated. 
If  there  is  one  kind  of  meanness  that  disgusts  average 
human-nature  more  than  another  it  is  a  selfish,  unthankful 
reception  of  kindness,  a  swinish  return  for  pearls. 

After  an  early  supper  I  drove  to  the  village  with  what 
I  had  to  sell,  and  returned  with  two  corn- hooks.  At  dusk 
of  the  following  day,  Bagley  and  I  had  the  corn  cut  and 
tied  up,  my  helper  remarking  more  than  once,  "Tell  you 
what  it  IS,  Mr.  Durham,  there  hain't  a  better  eared-out 
patch  o'  corn  in  Maizeville. " 

On  the  following  day  I  helped  Bagley  sharpen  one  of 
the  hooks,  and  we  began  to  cut  the  fodder-corn  which  now 
stood,  green  and  succulent,  averaging  two  feet  in  height 
throughout  the  field. 


AUTUMN    WORK    AND   SPORT  203 


CHAPTER  XLII 

AUTUMN    WORK   AND   SPORT 

THE  barn  was  now  up,  and  the  carpenters  were  roofing 
it  in,  while  two  days  more  of  work  would  complete 
the  sty  and  poultry- house.  Every  stroke  of  the 
hammer  told  rapidly  now,  and  we  all  exulted  over  our  new 
and  better  appliances  for  carrying  out  our  plan  of  country 
life.  Since  tbe  work  was  being  done  by  contract,  I  con- 
tented myself  with  seeing  that  it  was  done  thoroughly. 
Meanwhile  Merton  was  busy  with  the  cart,  drawing  rich 
earth  from  the  banks  of  the  creek.  I  determined  that  the 
making  of  great  piles  of  compost  should  form  no  small  part 
of  my  fall  and  winter  labor.  The  proper  use  of  fertilizers 
during  the  present  season  had  given  such  a  marked  increase 
to  our  crops  that  it  became  clear  that  our  best  prospect  of 
growing  rich  was  in  making  the  land  rich. 

During  the  last  week  of  September  the  nights  were  so 
cool  as  to  suggest  frost,  and  I  said  to  Mousie:  "I  think  we 
had  better  take  up  your  geraniums  and  other  window  plants, 
and  put  them  in  pots  or  boxes.  We  can  then  stand  them 
under  a  tree  which  would  shelter  them  from  a  slight  frost. 
Should  there  be  serious  danger  it  would  take  us  only  a  few 
minutes  to  bring  them  into  the  house.  You  have  taken 
such  good  care  of  them  all  summer  that  I  do  not  intend 
that  you  shall  lose  them  now.  Take  your  flower  book  and 
read  what  kind  of  soil  they  grow  best  in  during  the  winter, 
and  then  Merton  can  help  you  get  it." 

The  child  was  all  solicitude  about  her  pets,  and  after 
dinner  she  and  Merton,  the  latter  trundling  a  wheelbarrow, 


204  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

went  down  to  the  creek  and  obtained  a  lot  of  fine  sand  and 
some  leaf-mould  from  under  the  trees  in  the  woods.  These 
ingredients  we  carefully  mixed  with  rich  soil  from  the 
flower-bed  and  put  the  compound  in  the  pots  and  boxes 
around  the  roots  of  as  many  plants  as  there  was  room  for  on 
the  table  by  the  sunny  kitchen  window.  Having  watered 
them  thoroughly,  we  stood  them  under  a  tree,  there  to  re- 
main until  a  certain  sharpness  in  the  air  should  warn  us  to 
carry  them  to  their  winter  quarters. 

The  Lima- beans,  as  fast  as  the  pods  grew  dry,  or  even 
yellow,  were  picked  and  spread  in  the  attic.  They  could 
be  shelled  at  our  leisure  on  stormy  winter  days. 

Early  in  September  my  wife  had  begun  to  give  Mousie, 
Winnie,  and  Bobsey  their  lessons  again.  Since  we  were  at 
some  distance  from  a  schoolhouse  we  decided  to  continue 
this  arrangement  for  the  winter  with  the  three  younger  chil- 
dren. I  felt  that  Merton  should  go  to  school  as  soon  as 
possible,  but, he  pleaded  hard  for  a  reprieve  until  the  last 
of  October,  saying  that  he  did  not  wish  to  begin  before 
Junior.  As  we  still  had  a  great  deal  to  do,  and  as  the  boy 
had  set  his  heart  on  some  fall  shooting,  I  yielded,  he  promis- 
ing to  study  all  the  harder  when  he  began. 

I  added,  however:  "The  evenings  have  grown  so  long 
that  you  can  write  for  half  an  hour  after  supper,  and  then 
we  will  review  your  arithmetic  together.  It  will  do  me 
good  as  well  as  you." 

During  the  ensuing  weeks  we  carried  out  this  plan  par- 
tially, but  after  a  busy  day  in  the  open  air  we  were  apt  to 
nod  over  our  tasks.  We  were  both  taught  the  soundness 
of  the  principle  that  brain-work  should  precede  physical 
exercise. 

The  1st  day  of  October  was  bright,  clear,  and  mild,  and 
we  welcomed  the  true  beginning  of  fall  in  our  latitude  most 
gladly.  This  month  competes  with  May  in  its  fitness  for 
ideal  country  life.  The  children  voted  it  superior  to  all 
other  months,  feeling  that  a  vista  of  unalloyed  delights  was 
opening  before  them.     Already  the  butternuts  were -falling 


AUTUMN    WORK    AND   SPORT  205 

from  several  large  trees  on  the  place,  and  the  burrs  on  the 
chtestnuts  were  plump  with  their  well-shielded  treasures. 
Winnie  and  Bobsey  began  to  gather  these  burrs  from  the 
lower  limbs  of  an  immense  tree,  eighteen  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence, and  to  stamp  out  the  half-brown  nuts  within. 

"One  or  two  frosts  will  ripen  them  and  open  the  burrs," 
I  said,  and  then  the  children  began  to  long  for  the  frost 
which  I  dreaded. 

While  I  still  kept  the  younger  children  busy  for  a  few 
hours  every  clear  morning  in  the  garden,  and  especially  at 
clipping  the  runners  from  the  strawberry  plants  in  the  field, 
they  were  given  ample  time  to  gather  their  winter  hoards  of 
nuts.  This  pursuit  afforded  them  endless  items  for  talk, 
Bobsey  modestly  assuring  us  that  he  alone  would  gather 
about  a  million  bushels  of  butternuts,  and  almost  as  many 
chestnuts  and  walnuts. 

"What  will  the  squirrels  do  then  ?"  I  asked. 

"They  must  do  as  I  do,"  he  cried;  "pick  up  and  carry 
off  as  fast  as  they  can.  They'll  have  a  better  chance  than 
me,  too,  for  they  can  work  all  day  long.  The  little  scamps 
are  already  taking  the  nuts  off  the  trees — I've  seen  'em,  and 
I  wish  Merton  would  shoot  'em  all." 

"Well,  Merton,"  said  I,  laughing,  "I  suppose  that  squir- 
rels are  proper  game  for  you;  but  I  hope  that  you  and 
Junior  won't  shoot  robins.  They  are  too  useful  a  bird  to 
kill,  and  I  feel  grateful  for  all  the  music  they've  given 
us  during  the  past  summer.  I  know  the  law  permits  you 
to  shoot  them  now,  but  you  and  Junior  should  be  more 
civilized  than  such  a  law." 

"If  we  don't  get  'em,  everybody  else  will,  and  we  might 
as  well  have  our  share,"  he  replied. 

I  knew  that  there  was  no  use  in  drawing  the  reins  too 
tight,  and  so  I  said:  "I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you 
and  Junior.  I'd  like  you  both  to  promise  not  to  shoot 
robins  except  on  the  wing.  That  will  teach  you  to  be  ex- 
pert and  quick-eyed.  A  true  sportsman  is  not  one  who  tries 
to  kill  as  much  game  as  possible,  but  to  kill  scientifically, 


206  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

skilfully.  There  is  more  pleasure  in  giving  your  game  a 
chance,  and  in  bringing  it  down  with  a  fine  long  shot,  tlfan 
in  slaughtering  the  poor  creatures  like  chickens  in  a  coop. 
Anybody  can  shoot  a  robin,  sitting  on  a  bough  a  few  yards 
off,  but  to  bring  one  down  when  in  rapid  flight  is  the  work 
of  a  sportsman.  Never  allow  yourself  to  be  known  as  a 
mere  'pot-hunter.'  For  my  part,  I  had  rather  live  on  pork 
than  on  robins  or  any  useful  birds," 

He  readily  agreed  not  to  fire  at  robins  except  when 
flying,  and  to  induce  Junior  to  do  likewise.  I  was  satisfied 
that  not  many  of  my  little  favorites  would  suffer. 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "I'll  coax  Mr.  Jones  to  let  Junior 
off  to-morrow,  and  you  can  have  the  entire  day  to  get  your 
hands  in.  This  evening  you  can  go  down  to  the  village  and 
buy  a  stock  of  ammunition." 

The  boy  went  to  his  work  happy  and  contented. 

* '  Papa,  where  can  we  dry  our  butternuts  ?' '  Winnie 
asked. 

"I'll  fix  a  place  on  the  roof  of  the  shed  right  away,"  I 
said.  "Its  slope  is  very  gradual,  and  if  I  nail  some  slats 
on  the  lower  side  you  can  spread  the  millions  of  bushels 
that  you  and  Bobsey  will  gather." 

Now  Bobsey  had  a  little  wagon,  and,  having  finished  his 
morning  stint  of  work,  he,  with  Mousie  and  Winnie,  started 
off  to  the  nearest  butternut-tree;  and  during  the  remainder 
of  the  day,  with  the  exception  of  the  time  devoted  to  les- 
sons, loads  came  often  to  the  shed,  against  which  I  had  left 
a  ladder.  By  night  they  had  at  least  one  of  the  million 
bushels  spread  and  drying. 

As  they  brought  in  their  last  load  about  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  I  said  to  them,  "Come  and  see  what  I've  got." 

I  led  the  way  to  the  sty,  and  there  were  grunting  three 
half-grown  pigs.  Now  that  the  pen  was  ready  I  had  waited 
no  longer,  and,  having  learned  from  Eollins  that  he  was  will- 
ing to  sell  some  of  his  stock,  had  bought  three  sufficiently 
large  to  make  good  pork  by  the  1st  of  December. 

The  children  welcomed  the  new-comers  with  shouts;  but 


AUTUMN    WORK    AND   SPORT  207 

I  said:  "That  won't  do.  You'll  frighten  them  so  that  they'll 
try  to  jump  out  of  the  pen.  Eun  now  and  pick  up  a  load  of 
apples  in  your  wagon  and  throw  them  to  the  pigs.  They'll 
understand  and  like  such  a  welcoming  better;"  and  so  it 
proved. 

At  supper  1  said:  "Children,  picking  up  apples,  which 
was  such  fun  this  evening,  will  hereafter  be  part  of  your 
morning  work,  for  a  while.  In  the  room  over  the  sty  is  a 
bin  which  must  be  filled  with  the  fallen  apples  before  any 
nuts  can  be  gathered. ' ' 

Even  Bobsey  laughed  at  the  idea  that  this  was  work; 
but  1  knew  that  it  would  soon  become  so.  Then  Mousie 
exclaimed,  "Papa,  do  you  know  that  the  red  squirrels  are 
helping  us  to  gather  nuts?" 

"If  so,  certainly  without  meaning  it.     How?" 

"Well,  as  we  were  coming  near  one  of  the  trees  we  saw 
a  squirrel  among  the  branches,  and  we  hid  behind  a  bush 
to  watch  him.  We  soon  found  that  he  was  tumbling  down 
the  nuts,  for  he  would  go  to  the  end  of  a  limb  and  bite  clus- 
ter after  cluster.  The  thought  that  we  would  get  the  nuts 
so  tickled  Bobsey  that  he  began  to  laugh  aloud,  and  then 
the  squirrel  ran  barking  away." 

"You  needn't  crow  so  loud,  Bobsey,"  1  said.  "The 
squirrel  will  fill  many  a  hole  in  hollow  trees  before  winter, 
in  spite  of  you." 

"I'll  settle  his  business  before  he  steals  many  more  of 
our  nuts,"  spoke  up  Merton. 

"You  know  the  squirrel  wasn't  stealing,  my  boy.  The 
nuts  grew  for  him  as  truly  as  for  you  youngsters.  At  the 
same  time  1  suppose  he  will  form  part  of  a  pot-pie  before 
long." 

"I  hate  to  think  that  such  pretty  little  creatures  should 
be  killed,"  said  Mousie. 

*'I  feel  much  the  same,"  I  admitted;  "and  yet  Merton 
will  say  we  cannot  indulge  in  too  much  sentiment.  You 
know  that  we  read  that  red  squirrels  are  mischievous  in  the 
main.     They  tumble  little  birds  out  of  their  nests,  carry  off 


208  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

corn,  and  I  have  seen  them  gnawing  apples  for  the  sake  of 
the  seeds.  It  wouldn't  do  for  them  to  become  too  plentiful. 
Moreover,  game  should  have  its  proper  place  as  food,  and 
as  a  means  of  recreation.  We  raise  chickens  and  kill  them. 
Under  wise  laws,  well  enforced,  nature  would  fill  the  woods, 
fields,  and  mountains  with  partridges,  quail,  rabbits,  and 
other  wholesome  food.  Eemember  what  an  old  and  thickly 
settled  land  England  is,  yet  the  country  is  alive  with  game. 
There  it  is  protected  on  great  estates,  but  here  the  people 
must  agree  to  protect  it  for  themselves." 

"Junior  says,"  Merton  explained,  "that  the  partridges 
and  rabbits  in  the  mountains  are  killed  oft  by  foxes  and 
wild-cats  and  wood-choppers  who  catch  them  in  traps  and 
snares." 

"I  fancy  the  wood-choppers  do  the  most  harm.  If  I  had 
my  way,  there  would  be  a  big  bounty  for  the  destruction  of 
foxes,  and  a  heavy  fine  for  all  trappers  of  game.  The  coun- 
try would  be  tenfold  more  interesting  if  it  were  full  of  wild, 
harmless,  useful  creatures.  I  hope  the  time  will  come  when 
our  streams  will  be  again  thoroughly  stocked  with  fish,  and 
our  wild  lands  with  game.  If  hawks,  foxes,  trappers,  and 
other  nuisances  could  be  abolished,  there  would  be  space  on 
yonder  mountains  for  partridges  to  flourish  by  the  million. 
I  hope,  as  the  country  grows  older,  that  the  people  will  in- 
telligently co-work  with  nature  in  preserving  and  increasing 
all  useful  wild  life.  Every  stream,  lake,  and  pond  could  be 
crowded  with  fish,  and  every  grove  and  forest  afford  a  shel- 
ter and  feeding-ground  for  game.  There  should  be  a  wise 
guardianship  of  wild  life,  such  as  we  maintain  over  our 
poultry-yards,  and  skill  exercised  in  increasing  it.  Then 
nature  would  supplement  our  labors,  and  furnish  a  large 
amount  of  delicious  food  at  little  cost." 

"Well,  papa,  I  fear  1  shall  be  gray  before  your  fine 
ideas  are  carried  out.  From  what  Junior  says,  I  guess  that 
Bagley  and  his  children,  and  others  like  them,  will  get  more 
game  this  winter  than  we  will,  and  without  firing  a  shot 
They  are  almost  as  wild  as  the  game  itself,  and  know  just 


AUTUMN    WORK    AND   SPOET  209 

where  to  set  their  snares  for  it.  1  can't  afford  to  wait  until 
it's  all  killed  off,  or  till  that  good  time  comes  of  which  you 
speak,  either.  1  hope  to  shoot  enough  for  a  pot-pie  at  least 
to-morrow,  and  to  have  very  good  sport  while  about  it. " 

''I  have  good  news  about  the  Bagley  children,"  said  my 
wife.  '*!  was  down  there  to-day,  and  all  the  children  begin 
school  next  Monday.  Between  clothes  which  our  children 
have  outgrown,  and  what  Mrs.  Bagley  has  been  able  to  buy 
and  make,  all  three  of  the  young  Bagleys  make  a  very  re- 
spectable appearance.  I  took  it  upon  myself  to  tell  the  chil- 
dren that  if  they  went  to  school  regularly  we  would  make 
them  nice  Christmas  presents." 

"And  I  confirm  the  bargain  heartily,"  I  cried.  "Mor- 
ton, look  out  for  yourself,  or  the  Bagley  boy  will  get  ahead 
of  you  at  school." 

He  laughed  and,  with  Junior,  started  for  the  village,  to 
get  their  powder  and  shot. 

The  next  morning  after  preparing  a  good  lot  of  cartridges 
before  breakfast,  the  two  boys  started,  and,  having  all  day 
before  them,  took  their  lunches  with  the  intention  of  explor- 
ing Schunemunk  Mountain.  The  squirrels,  birds,  and  rab- 
bits near  home  were  reserved  for  odd  times  when  the  lads 
could  slip  away  for  a  few  hours  only. 

Our  new  barn,  now  about  completed,  gave  my  wife  and 
me  as  much  pleasure  as  the  nuts  and  game  afforded  the  chil- 
dren. I  went  through  it,  adding  here  and  there  some  finish- 
ing touches  and  little  conveniences,  a  painter  meanwhile 
giving  it  a  final  coat  of  dark,  cheap  wash. 

Our  poultry- house  was  now  ready  for  use,  and  1  said  to 
Winnie,  "To-night  we  will  catch  the  chickens  and  put  them 
in  it." 

The  old  horse  had  already  been  established  in  the  stable, 
and  1  resolved  that  the  cow  should  come  in  from  this  time. 
In  the  afternoon  I  began  turning  over  the  fodder  corn,  and 
saw  that  a  very  tew  more  days  would  cure  it.  Although  1 
decided  not  to  begin  the  main  husking  until  after  the  middle 
of  the  month,  1  gathered  enough  ears  to  start  the  pigs  on  the 


210  DRIVEN    BACK    TO    EDEN 

fattening  process.  Toward  night  I  examined  the  apples,  and 
determined  to  adopt  old  Mr.  Jamison's  plan  of  picking  the 
largest  and  ripest  at  once,  leaving  the  smaller  and  greener 
fruit  to  mature  until  the  last  of  the  month.  The  dark  cellar 
was  already  half  filled  with  potatoes,  but  the  space  left  for 
such  apples  as  we  should  pick  was  ready.  From  time  to 
time  when  returning  from  the  village  1  had  brought  up 
empty  barrels;  and  in  some  of  these,  earlier  kinds,  like  fall 
pippins  and  greenings,  had  been  packed  and  shipped  to  Mr. 
Bogart.  By  his  advice  1  had  resolved  to  store  the  later 
varieties  and  those  which  would  keep  well,  disposing  of 
them  gradually  to  the  best  advantage.  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  the  morrow  should  see  the  beginning  of  our  chief  labor 
in  the  orchard.  I  had  sold  a  number  of  barrels  of  windfalls, 
but  they  brought  a  price  that  barely  repaid  us.  My  exami- 
nation of  the  trees  now  convinced  me  that  there  should  be 
no  more  delay  in  taking  off  the  large  and  fine-looking  fruit. 

With  the  setting  sun  Merton  and  Junior  arrived,  scarcely 
able  to  drag  their  weary  feet  down  the  lane.  Nevertheless 
their  fatigue  was  caused  by  efforts  entirely  after  their  own 
hearts,  and  they  declared  that  they  had  had  a  "splendid 
time."  Then  they  emptied  their  game-bags.  Each  of  the 
boys  had  a  partridge,  Merton  one  rabbit,  and  Junior  two. 
Merton  kept  up  his  prestige  by  showing  two  gray  squirrels 
to  Junior's  one.  Eed  squirrels  abounded,  and  a  few  robins, 
brought  down  on  the  wing  as  the  boys  had  promised. 

I  was  most  interested  in  the  rattles  of  the  deadly  snake 
which  Junior  had  nearly  stepped  on  and  then  shot. 

"Schunemunk  is  full  of  rattlers,"  Junior  said. 

*' Please  don't  hunt  there  any  more  then,"  I  replied. 

"No,  we'll  go  into  the  main  Highlands  to  the  east'ard 
next  time." 

Merton  had  also  brought  down  a  chicken  hawk;  and  the 
game,  spread  out  on  the  kitchen  table,  suggested  much 
interesting  wild  life,  about  which  I  said  we  should  read 
during  the  coming  winter,  adding:  "Well,  boys,  you  have 
more  than  earned  your  salt  in  your  sport  to-day,  for  each 


AUTUMN    WORK   AND    SPORT  211 

of  you  has  supplied  two  game  dinners.  We  shall  live  like 
aldermen  now,  I  suppose." 

*'Yes, "  cried  Merton,  ''whether  you  call  me  'pot-hunter* 
or  not,  I  mean  my  gun  to  pay  its  way. ' ' 

"I've  no  objections  to  that,"  was  my  laughing  answer, 
**as  long  as  you  shoot  like  a  sportsman,  and  not  like  a 
butcher.  Your  guns,  boys,  will  pay  best,  however,  in 
making  you  strong,  and  in  giving  you  some  well -deserved 
fun  after  your  busy  summer.  I  feel  that  you  have  both 
earned  the  right  to  a  good  deal  of  play  this  month,  and  that 
you  will  study  all  the  harder  for  it  by  and  by." 

"I  hope  you'll  talk  father  into  that  doctrine,"  said 
Junior,  as  he  sat  down  to  supper  with  us. 

The  boys  were  drowsy  as  soon  as  they  had  satisfied  their 
keen  appetites,  and  Mousie  laughed  at  them,  saying  that 
she  had  been  reading  how  the  boa-constrictor  gorged  him- 
self and  then  went  to  sleep,  and  that  they  reminded  her  of 
the  snake. 

"I  guess  I'll  go  home  after  that,"  said  Junior. 

"Now  you  know  I  was  only  poking  a  little  fun,"  said 
Mousie,  ruefully,  as  she  ran  into  the  kitchen  and  gathered 
up  his  game  for  him,  looking  into  his  face  so  archly  and 
coaxingly  that  he  burst  out:  "You  beat  all  the  game  in  the 
country.  I'll  shoot  a  blue  jay,  and  give  you  its  wings  for 
your  hat,  see  if  I  don't;"  and  with  this  compliment  and 
promise  he  left  the  child  happy. 

Merton  was  allowed  to  sleep  late  the  next  morning,  and 
was  then  set  to  work  in  the  orchard,  I  dividing  my  timo 
between  aiding  in  picking  the  apples  and  turning  over  the 
fodder  corn. 

"You  can  climb  like  a  squirrel,  Merton,  and  I  must  de- 
pend on  you  chiefly  for  gathering  the  apples.  Handle  them 
like  eggs,  so  as  not  to  bruise  them,  and  then  they  will  keep 
better.  After  we  have  gone  over  the  trees  once  and.  have 
stacked  the  fodder  corn  you  shall  have  a  good  time  with 
your  gun." 

For   the   next   few  days  we  worked   hard,   and   nearly 


212  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

finished  the  first  picking  of  the  apples,  also  getting  into 
shocks  the  greater  part  of  the  corn.  Then  came  a  storm 
of  wind  and  rain,  and  the  best  of  the  apples  on  one  tree, 
which  we  had  neglected,  were  soon  lying  on  the  ground, 
bruised  and  unfit  for  winter  keeping. 

"You  see,  Merton,"  I  said,  "that  we  must  manage  to 
attend  to  the  trees  earlier  next  year.     Live  and  learn. " 

The  wind  came  out  of  the  north  the  day  after  the  storm, 
and  Mr.  Jones  shouted,  as  he  passed  down  the  road,  "Hard 
frost  to-night!" 

Then  indeed  we  bustled  around.  Mousie's  flowers  were 
carried  in,  the  Lima- bean  poles,  still  hanging  full  of  green 
pods  more  or  less  filled  out,  were  pulled  up  and  stacked 
together  under  a  tree,  some  tomato-.vines,  with  their  green 
and  partially  ripe  fruit,  were  taken  up  by  the  roots  and 
hung  under  the  shed,  while  over  some  other  vines  a  cover- 
ing was  thrown  toward  night. 

"We  may  thus  keep  a  supply  of  this  wholesome  vege- 
table some  weeks  longer, ' '  I  said. 

Everything  that  we  could  protect  was  looked  after;  but 
our  main  task  was  the  gathering  of  all  the  grapes  except 
those  hanging  against  the  sides  of  the  house.  These  I  be- 
lieved would  be  so  sheltered  as  to  escape  injury.  We  had 
been  enjoying  this  delicious  fruit  for  some  time,  carrying 
out  our  plan,  however,  of  reserving  the  best  for  the  market. 
The  berries  on  the  small  clusters  were  just  as  sweet  and 
luscious,  and  the  children  were  content. 

Sure  enough,  on  the  following  morning  white  hoar-frost 
covered  the  grass  and  leaves. 

"No  matter,"  cried  Winnie,  at  the  breakfast- table;  "the 
chestnut  burrs  are  opening." 

By  frequent  stirring  the  rest  of  the  corn-fodder  was  soon 
dried  again,  and  was  stacked  like  the  rest.  Then  we  took  up 
the  beets  and  carrots,  and  stored  them  also  in  the  root  cellar. 

We  had  frost  now  nearly  every  night,  and  many  trees 
were  gorgeous  in  their  various  hues,  while  others,  like  the 
butternuts,  were  already  losing  their  foliage. 


AUTUMN   WORK   AND   SPORT  213 

The  days  were  filled  with  delight  for  the  children.  The 
younger  ones  were  up  with  the  sun  to  gather  the  nuts  that 
had  fallen  during  the  night,  Merton  accompanying  them 
with  his  gun,  bringing  in  squirrels  daily,  and  now  and  then 
a  robin  shot  while  flying.  His  chief  exploit  however  was 
the  bagging  of  half  a  dozen  quails  that  unwarily  chose  the  ^ 
lower  part  of  our  meadow  as  a  resort.  Then  he  and  Junior 
took  several  long  outings  in  the  Highlands,  with  fair  suc- 
cess; for  the  boys  had  become  decidedly  expert. 

"If  we  only  had  a  dog,"  said  Merton,  "we  could  do 
wonders." 

"Both  of  you  save  your  money  next  summer,  and  buy 
one,"  I  replied;  "I'll  give  you  a  chance,  Merton." 

By  the  middle  of  the  month  the  weather  became  dry  and 
warm,  and  the  mountains  were  almost  hidden  in  an  Indian 
summer  haze. 

"Now  for  the  corn- husking,"  I  said,  "and  the  planting 
of  the  ground  in  raspberries,  and  then  we  shall  be  through 
with  our  chief  labors  for  the  year." 

Merton  helped  me  at  the  husking,  but  I  allowed  him 
to  keep  his  gun  near,  and  he  obtained  an  occasional  shot 
which  enlivened  his  toil.  Two  great  bins  over  the  sty  and 
poultry-house  received  the  yellow  ears,  the  longest  and  fair- 
est being  stored  in  one,  and  in  the  other  the  "nubbin's," 
speedily  to  be  transformed  into  pork.  Part  of  the  stalks 
were  tied  up  and  put  in  the  old  "corn-stalk  barn,"  as  we 
called  it,  and  the  remainder  were  stacked  near.  Our  cow 
certainly  was  provided  for. 

Brindle  now  gave  too  little  milk  for  our  purpose,  whereas 
a  farmer  with  plenty  of  fodder  could  keep  her  over  the  win- 
ter to  advantage.  I  traded  her  off  to  a  neighboring  farmer 
for  a  new  milch  cow,  and  paid  twenty  dollars  to  boot.  We 
were  all  great  milk-topers,  while  the  cream  nearly  supplied 
us  with  butter. 

Having  removed  the  corn,  Mr.  Jones  plowed  the  field 
deeply,  and  then  Merton  and  I  set  out  the  varieties  of  rasp- 
berries which  promised  best  in  our  locality,   making  the 


214  DRIVEN   BACK    TO    EDEN 

hills  four  feet  apart  in  the  row,  and  the  rows  five  feet  from 
one  another.  1  followed  the  instructions  of  my  fruit  book 
closely,  and  cut  back  the  canes  of  the  plants  to  six  inches, 
and  sunk  the  roots  so  deep  as  to  leave  about  four  inches 
of  soil  above  them,  putting  two  or  three  plants  in  the  hill. 
Then  over  and  about  the  hills  we  put  on  the  surface  of 
the  ground  two  shovelfuls  of  compost,  finally  covering  the 
plants  beneath  a  slight  mound  of  earth.  This  would  protect 
them  from  the  severe  frost  of  winter. 

These  labors  and  the  final  picking  of  the  apples  brought 
us  to  the  last  week  of  the  month.  Of  the  smaller  fruit,  kept 
clean  and  sound  for  the  purpose,  we  reserved  enough  to 
make  two  barrels  of  cider,  of  which  one  should  go  into 
vinegar,  and  the  other  be  kept  sweet,  for  our  nut-crackings 
around  the  winter  fire.  Bobsey's  dream  of  "millions  of 
bushels"  of  nuts  had  not  been  realized,  yet  enough  had 
been  dried  and  stored  away  to  satisfy  even  his  eyes.  Not 
far  away  an  old  cider-mill  was  running  steadily,  and  we 
soon  had  the  barrels  of  russet  nectar  in  our  cellar.  Then 
came  Saturday,  and  Merton  and  Junior  were  given  one 
more  day's  outing  in  the  mountains  with  their  guns.  On 
the  following  Monday  they  trudged  off  to  the  nearest 
public  school,  feeling  that  they  had  been  treated  liberally, 
and  that  brain- work  must  now  begin  in  earnest.  Indeed 
from  this  time  forth,  for  months  to  come,  school  and  les- 
sons took  precedence  of  everything  else,  and  the  proper 
growing  of  boys  and  girls  was  the  uppermost  thought. 


THAJNKSQIVINO    DAY  215 


OHAPTEK  XLIII 

THANKSGIVING      DAY 

NOVEMBEB  weather  was  occasionally  so  blustering 
and  stormy  that  I  turned  schoolmaster  in  part,  to 
relieve  my  wife.  During  the  month,  however,  were 
bright,  genial  days,  and  others  softened  by  a  smoky  haze, 
which  gave  me  opportunity  to  gather  and  store  a  large  crop 
of  turnips,  to  trench  in  my  celery  on  a  dry  knoll,  and  to 
bury,  with  their  heads  downward,  all  the  cabbages  for 
which  I  could  not  find  a  good  market.  The  children  still 
gave  me  some  assistance,  but,  lessons  over,  they  were 
usually  permitted  to  amuse  themselves  in  their  own  way. 
Winnie,  however,  did  not  lose  her  interest  in  the  poultry, 
and  Merton  regularly  aided  in  the  care  of  the  stock  and  in 
looking  after  the  evening  supply  of  fire-wood.  1  also  spent 
a  part  of  my  time  in  the  wood  lot,  but  the  main  labor  there 
was  reserved  for  December.  The  chief  task  of  the  month 
was  the  laying  down  and  covering  of  the  tender  raspberries; 
and  in  this  labor  Bagley  again  gave  me  his  aid. 

Thanksgiving  Day  was  celebrated  with  due  observance. 
In  the  morning  we  all  heard  Dr.  Lyman  preach,  and  came 
home  with  the  feeling  that  we  and  the  country  at  large  were 
prosperous.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  with  Junior,  dined  with 
us  in  great  state,  and  we  had  our  first  four-course  dinner 
since  arriving  in  Maizeville,  and  at  the  fashionable  hour 
of  six  in  the  evening.  I  had  protested  against  my  wife's 
purpose  of  staying  at  home  in  the  morning,  saying  we 
would  ''browse  around  during  the  day  and  get  up  appetites, 
while  in  the  afternoon  we  could  all  turn  cooks  and  help 


216  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

her."  Merton  was  excepted,  and,  after  devouring  a  hasty 
cold  lunch,  he  and  Junior  were  off  with  their  guns.  As  for 
Bobsej,  he  appeared  to  browse  steadily  after  church,  but 
seemed  in  no  wise  to  have  exhausted  his  capacity  when  at 
last  he  attacked  his  soup,  turkey  drum-stick,  and  the 
climax  of  a  pudding.  Our  feast  was  a  very  informal  affair, 
seasoned  with  mirth  and  sauced  with  hunger.  The  viands, 
however,  under  my  wife's  skill,  would  compare  with  any 
eaten  in  the  great  city,  which  we  never  once  had  regretted 
leaving.  Winifred  looked  after  the  transfers  from  the 
kitchen  at  critical  moments,  while  Mousie  and  Winnie 
were  our  waitresses.  A  royal  blaze  crackled  in  the  open 
fireplace,  and  seemed  to  share  in  the  sparkle  of  our  rustic 
wit  and  unforced  mirth,  which  kept  plump  Mrs.  Jones  in 
a  perpetual  quiver,  like  a  form  of  jelly. 

Her  husband  came  out  strong  in  his  comical  resumj6  of 
the  past  year's  experience,  concluding:  "Well,  we  owe  you 
and  Mrs.  Durham  a  vote  of  thanks  for  reforming  the  Bagley 
tribe.  That  appears  to  me  an  orthodox  case  of  convar- 
sion.  First  we  gave  him  the  terrors  of  the  law.  Tell  yer 
what  it  is,  we  was  a-smokin'  in  wrath  around  him  that 
mornin',  like  Mount  Sinai,  and  you  had  the  sense  to  bring, 
in  the  nick  of  time,  the  gospel  of  givin'  a  feller  a  chance. 
It's  the  best  gospel  there  is,  I  reckon." 

"Well,"  I  replied,  becoming  thoughtful  for  a  moment 
with  boyish  memories,  "my  good  old  mother  taught  me  that 
it  was  God's  plan  to  give  us  a  chance,  and  help  us  make 
the  most  of  it. ' ' 

"I  remembered  the  Bagleys  to-day,"  Mrs.  Jones  re- 
marked, nodding  to  my  wife.  "We  felt  they  ought  to  be 
encouraged." 

"So  did  we,"  my  wife  replied,  sotto  voce. 

We  afterward  learned  that  the  Bagleys  had  been  pro- 
visioned for  nearly  a  month  by  the  good- will  of  neighbors, 
who,  a  short  time  since,  had  been  ready  to  take  up  arms 
against  them. 

By  eight  o'clock  everything  was  cleared  away,  Mrs.  Jones 


THANKSOIVING    DAY  217 

assisting  my  wife,  and  showing  that  she  would  be  hurt  if 
not  permitted  to  do  so.  Then  we  all  gathered  around  the 
glowing  hearth,  Junior's  rat-a-tat-snap!  proving  that  our 
final  course  of  nuts  and  cider  would  be  provided  in  the 
usual  way. 

How  homely  it  all  was!  how  free  from  any  attempt  at 
display  of  style!  yet  equally  free  from  any  trace  of  vulgar- 
ity or  ill-natured  gossip.  Mousie  had  added  grace  to  the 
banquet  with  her  blooming  plants  and  dried  grasses;  and, 
although  the  dishes  had  been  set  on  the  table  by  my  wife's 
and  children's  hands,  they  were  daintily  ornamented  and 
inviting.  All  had  been  within  our  means  and  accomplished 
by  ourselves;  and  the  following  morning  brought  no  regret- 
ful thoughts.  Our  helpful  friends  went  home,  feeling  that 
they  had  not  bestowed  their  kindness  on  unthankful  people 
whose  scheme  of  life  was  to  get  and  take,  but  not  to  return. 


218  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 


CHAPTEE  XLIY 

WB   CAN   MAKE   A   LIVING   IN   EDEN 

WELL,  our  first  year  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The 
1st  of  December  was  celebrated  by  an  event  no 
less  momentous  than  the  killing  of  our  pigs,  to 
Winnie's  and  Bobsey's  intense  excitement.  In  this  affair 
my  wife  and  I  were  almost  helpless,  but  Mr.  Jones  and 
Bagley  were  on  hand,  and  proved  themselves  veterans, 
while  Mrs.  Jones  stood  by  my  wife  until  the  dressed  ani- 
mals were  transformed  into  souse,  head-cheese,  sausage, 
and  well-salted  pork.  The  children  feasted  and  exulted 
through  all  the  processes,  especially  enjoying  some  sweet 
spareribs.  . 

I  next  gave  all  my  attention,  when  the  weather  per- 
mitted, to  the  proper  winter  covering  of  all  the  strawberries, 
and  to  the  cutting  and  carting  home  of  old  and  dying  trees 
from  the  wood  lot. 

The  increasing  cold  brought  new  and  welcome  pleasures 
to  the  children.  There  was  ice  on  the  neighboring  ponds, 
and  skates  were  bought  as  premature  Christmas  presents. 
The  same  was  true  of  sleds  after  the  first  fall  of  snow. 
This  white  covering  of  the  earth  enabled  Merton  and  Junior 
to  track  some  rabbits  in  the  vicinity,  which  thus  far  had 
eluded  their  search. 

By  the  middle  of  the  month  we  realized  that  winter  had 
begun  in  all  its  rather  stern  reality;  but  we  were  sheltered 
and  provided  for.  We  had  so  far  imitated  the  ants  that  we 
had  abundant  stores  until  the  earth  should  again  yield  its 
bounty. 


WE   CAN   MAKE    A    LIVING   IN  EDEN  219 

Christmas  brought  us  more  than  its  wonted  joy,  and  a 
better  fulfilment  of  the  hopes  and  anticipations  which  we 
had  cherished  on  the  same  day  of  the  previous  year. 
We  were  far  from  regretting  our  flight  to  the  country, 
although  it  had  involved  us  in  hard  toil  and  many  anx- 
ieties. My  wife  was  greatly  pleased  by  my  many  hours  of 
rest  at  the  fireside  in  her  companionship,  caused  by  days 
too  cold  and  wintry  for  outdoor  work;  but  our  deepest  and 
most  abiding  content  was  expressed  one  evening  as  we  sat 
alone  after  the  children  were  asleep. 

"You  have  solved  the  problem,  Robert,  that  was  worry- 
ing you.  There  is  space  here  for  the  children  to  grow,  and 
the  Daggetts  and  the  Kicketts  and  all  their  kind  are  not  so 
near  as  to  make  them  grow  wrong,  almost  in  spite  of  us. 
A  year  ago  we  felt  that  we  were  virtually  being  driven  to 
the  country.  I  now  feel  as  if  we  had  been  led  by  a  kindly 
and  divine  hand." 

I  had  given  much  attention  to  my  account-book  of  late, 
and  had  said,  "On  New  Year's  morning  I  will  tell  you  all 
the  result  of  our  first  year's  effort." 

At  breakfast,  after  our  greetings  and  good  wishes  for  the 
New  Year,  all  looked  expectantly  at  me  as  I  opened  our 
financial  record.  Carefully  and  clearly  as  possible,  so  that 
even  Winnie  might  understand  in  part,  I  went  over  the 
different  items,  and  the  expense  and  proceeds  of  the  differ- 
ent crops,  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  separate  them.  Bobsey's 
attention  soon  wandered,  for  he  had  an  abiding  faith  that 
breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper  would  follow  the  sun,  and 
that  was  enough  for  him.  But  the  other  children  were 
pleased  with  my  confidence,  and  tried  to  understand  me. 

"To  sum  up  everything,"  I  said,  finally,  "we  have  done, 
by  working  all  together,  what  I  alone  should  probably  have 
accomplished  in  the  city — we  have  made  our  living,  I  have 
also  taken  an  inventory  or  an  account  of  stock  on  hand  and 
paid  for;  that  is,  1  have  here  a  list  on  which  are  named 
the  horse,  wagon,  harness,  cow,  crates  and  baskets,  tools, 
poultry,  and  pigs.     These  things  are  paid  for,  and  we  are 


220  DRIVEN   BACK    TO   EDEN 

SO  much  ahead.  Now,  children,  which  is  better,  a  living  in 
the  city,  I  earning  it  for  you  all  ?  or  a  living  in  the  country 
toward  which  even  Bobsey  can  do  his  share?" 

**A  living  in  the  country,"  was  the  prompt  chorus. 
"There  is  something  here  for  a  fellow  to  do  without  being 
nagged  by  a  policeman,"  Merton  added. 

"Well,  children,  mamma  and  I  agree  with  you.  What's 
more,  there  wasn't  much  chance  for  me  to  get  ahead  in  the 
city,  or  earn  a  large  salary.  Here,  by  pulling  all  together, 
there  is  almost  a -certainty  of  our  earning  more  than  a  bare 
living,  and  of  laying  up  something  for  a  rainy  day.  The 
chief  item  of  profit  from  our  farm,  however,  is  not  down 
in  my  account- book,  but  we  see  it  in  your  sturdier  forms 
and  in  Mousie's  red  cheeks.  More  than  all,  we  believe  that 
you  are  better  and  healthier  at  heart  than  you  were  a 
year  ago. 

"Now  for  the  New  Year.  Let  us  make  the  best  and  most 
of  it,  and  ask  God  to  help  us. " 

And  so  my  simple  history  ends  in  glad  content  and  hope. 


THE  END 


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